The only story in the universe
by extraterrestial
Summary: I'm gonna tell you a story. The oldest story in the universe. The only story in the universe, really. And the shortest, too. Three words. With three simple words i can sum up every story you'll ever hear. Does that sound scary to you? Our world is full of stories. And i can define every single one of them with just three words. Do you belive me?
1. prologue: the only story in the universe

I'm gonna tell you a story. The oldest story in the universe. The only story in the universe, really.

Oh, and the shortest, too.

Three words.

With three simple words i can sum up every story you'll ever hear. Does that sound scary to you?

Our world is full of stories. Books, movies, music. And i can define every single one of them with just three words.

Do you belive me?

Well. First, you take a person. Any person. You give them a tragedy, and you see who they grow out to be. And you sit back an watch them go down in history.

In this particular case, literally.

And the oldest story in the universe is suddenly a legend. A whisper in the void, a silent knoweledge in the dark. A melody floating trough time and space, a memory that maybe shouldn't exist.

Oh, those three simple words?

**((Author's note: (aka what-I-couldn't-fit-in-the-summary):**

***Well, basically this is a story where a girl runs into a Time Lord. **

**But things aren't that simple.**

**He's got himself trapped in the wrong reality -and lost his memory. **

**And now he doesn't know he's a Time Lord.**

**Yeah, there would be billions of fangirls to point that out to him -but he's also regenerated. **

**So, when he wakes up with no memory and a head full of messy thoughts, he's not exactly sure what to do.**

**Untill he finds a key with the name 'Johm Smith' on it from his pocket.**

**And our girl? Well. A not-so-ordinary girl with a not-so-ordinary life.**

****And please don't hate me for the typos, english isn't my first language. Also in case some of you actually thought I own Doctor Who I suggest you think that over and go read a book or something))**

**Also I am very sorry that the whole story is very possibly quite horrible and has a shitload of plotholes, that's what you get when your head is as non-existently organised as mine is and you happen to make it up as you go along. **


	2. the three words

Right, those three simple words.

It. Gets. Better.

Think about it. Have you ever heard a story that didn't end to a victory of some sort? Maybe not a happy ever after, but a slightly better life. Because, who woud want to hear a story where nothing gets better? Who would possibly want to break the bubble we've buit around ourselves, the bubble in which justice and order run the world?

Exactly.

So. I believe I promised you a story? Well. This is the only story in the universe, and like i said, it begins with a person.

I am Jupiter. Well, that's not my real name, but everyone still calls me that. You see, when I was a kid someone misheard my last name, Juniper, and long story short, I am now the girl named after a giant gasball floating in deep space. I'm not complaining, though, taken one of my friends was called Goatcheese for about ten years with no apparent reason.

I looked up, stirring my tea and staring at the Milky Way.

I was sitting at the balcony fence, surrounded by darkness and silence.

Not the intimidating kind of darkness and silence, no.

The comforting kind.

I stared at the stars.

_There has got to be more to life than this._

_Something better than humanity. _

_If it was up to me, I would happily sign an intergalactic law against active space travelling from planet Earth._

_Because everyone who bothers to think about it should know that all the aliens out there should be scared of the human invasion._

I sighed a bit.

As if my thoughts mattered.

I'll be dead before anyone figures out a reasonable way to travel between solar systems anyways.

That, and i'm only a teenager. Who would honestly listen to me; who would honestly think that I might actually have something to say.

_Well, at least i can look at the stars and dream. The only two things that keep me going, really._

_Knowing that there is so much more than this little insignificant rock floating in space. Knowing that maybe, just maybe, there's someone out there looking at the same stars from a different point of view. Knowing that maybe someone's staring up at the galaxy i live in, silently whispering: _

"_if you love me _

_let me _

_tell myself;_

_this isn't all there _

_is"_

_Yeah,okay. I know intergalactic bookpublishers aren't actually a thing yet, so that poem only exists on this particular planet, but really, do you honestly think no-one has ever thought of that?_

I got distracted when a train went by. I smiled a bit to myself as the wind picked up and made a very Tardis-like noise.

Every time.

Every time a train goes by or the wind blows just a bit too hard, for a second I think that maybe, just maybe it's him.

I know it's not.

It never is.

Yet I can't stop myself from hoping that maybe someday the train will go by and the wind will die down.

And the time machine will stay.

Because sometimes I'm just so sick of this. Tired of...everything. Tired of living like this. Tired of living in a world where I'm constantly reminded of the fact that I'll never be good enough. Tired of living in a world where hope is just a lie.

Tired of being tired.

I know that if anyone knew I'm hoping that he'd run into me while running around the universe, they'd think i'm crazy.

I can't blame them.

Hell, _I _think I'm crazy for thinking that maybe he's out there somewhere. Not maybe in this universe, not maybe in this time, but somewhere.

Honestly, when everything goes wrong and life gets you down, who wouldn't want to get away?

Isn't that what he's all about?

Hope?


	3. Reality

My stargazing was interrupted by a beeping phone in my pocket. I furrowed my eyebrows a bit. Taken it was about 3 am, i wasn't exactly expecting a phonecall. Plus everyone I knew knew I hated phonecalls.

"Yeah?" i answered, seeing it was Scar. Well, her real name is Scarlett, but everyone called her Scar. She was a short, athletic girl that cut her hair with a gilette razor. She had pierced her own ears when she was about eleven and she'd been doing kickboxing for about five years now. She had a secret tattoo and she wore an old military jacket I had given her a few years back. Get the picture? Also, she had a permanent white bruise on the side of her face. No-one quite knew why, and they probably didn't care or were too afraid to ask.

So I was quite shocked when I heard her crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked as my senses sharpened.

"My life." She answered with a voice filled with hatred and pain.

Did i mention she also is fifteen years old, publically bullied and from an abusive family that openly loathed her?

I had sort of taken her under my wing years ago.

I took a breath.

"Can I come over?" she muttered.

"Of course." I answered. I heard she was obviously already walking. She knows my sleeping schedule was already ruined anyways, and she knows she could come to my house any given time and i wouldn't mind.

She also knows I suck at comforting people.

I can't help it: I automatically analyze everything, organize every thought to a logical order and choose plain facts and logic over feelings.

Seriously, if I had to categorize my emotial capacity I would file it quite close to that of Spock.

But I guess right now that's good enough for her.

In a few minutes she was leaning to the wall next to me, wrapped up in a blanket and holding a large cup of green tea. It was a psychological and physical attempt to make her feel better: The warm cup was similar to a warm hug, or at least for a human brain it was, and the tea gave her something else to think, while slowing down her pulse and speeding up her metabolism, making her brain hopefully work better.

Now i had to take care of the social part of comforting.

But since she already knew I suck at this I had nothing to lose. I might as well try.

"_**Reality." **_I started. She turned her head from the stars to me.

I tried to think of something that might make her feel better.

The only sensible idea i had was trying to convince her that I, at least on some level, understood.

"_It struck me like a lightning._

_Out of the blue, clear sky, it struck me, and i have a feeling that the balance of probability is not working properly. Because everything couldn't just fall apart like this. Surely there had to be something to stop that from happening._

_Right?_

_Something." _I looked up. She had a questioning look in her eyes.

"_A law of physics, maybe._

_Karma._

_The balance of probability. it was just extremely improbable that everything that could go wrong, would. Surely there had to be something in this enormous, ridiculous universe, something that makes the world work. Something that makes the improbabities work out to our favor, something that makes the heroes survive._

_Surely there has got to be something in this universe that protects us, mends us._

_Something that picks us up when we're too weak to stand up on our own._

_Something._

_Anything._

_Right?"_

I took a breath.

"_Wrong._

_Who even told you the world was supposed to work? Because I would like to disagree._

_That's just a fairytale._

_That's just a picture we like to paint."_

She was used to the fact that I talked a lot. And when I did, she usually just sat there, trying to understand me. She always had that curious spark in her eyes, telling she _wanted_ to understand.

Now it was gone. Replaced with an empty space. She didn't care anymore.

And I wanted for her to understand this on her own. I wanted for her to see this from my point of view, because she was, after all, only fifteen.

I took a breath.

"_We want there to be someone to look after us, we want to tell ourselves we're safe. We want to believe in the good stuff, we want to live in world where the villain never wins. We never think it trough, 'cause somewhere deep down we know we won't like what we find._

_Because there is nothing._

_Nothing to stop the world from ending, no-one to save us. No-one to catch the bad guys, no-one to make everything better._

_And usually, no villains to kill._

_No bombs to dissolve._

_Just a life to survive."_

She was staring at the stars, and I didn't know if she was actually listening. But i kept on speaking anyways. Because some day, her life might depend on this.

"_Sooner or later you're gonna realize that, and that's gonna hurt like hell._

_So in case you still believe in a world of justice and order, I'm sorry._

_Because I would love to tell you it's gonna be okay. There is nothing in this world I wouldn't do just so I could look you in the eye and tell you you're gonna be safe. I want to tell you I'm gonna protect you and that no matter what, what's good and right will always find a way. _

_However, I know these are lies. And it would kill me to be just another liar in the crowd, just another shadow in the sea of monsters. _

_I admit. I used to think that maybe, just maybe, life wasn't that bad._

_That bad things happened to bad guys. That maybe there was still some illogical justice in this world, and that maybe there was still a bit of humanity left in us._

_And the worst thing is, I still kind of believe that. I know i'm just fooling myself, but I still kind of think that it's gonna be okay. I still have this weird, irrational blind hope inside me, and that's what keeps me going._

_The sad part is, it's also what hurts me the most." _I took a breath.

"_'cause the blind hope isn't just blind._

_It's false._

_I mean, do you know that feeling that you just...can't?_

_That everything that can go wrong, will?_

_And that some day, when you finally let yourself fall apart,_

_you won't be strong enough to stand up again. 'Cause when you've done it over and over again, eventually you're just too tired. Because no-one can promise you you won't be knocked back down again. But you still get up. You still try again. You don't surrender, you don't give up. You refuse to stay on the ground, you refuse to die. Even with no promise of victory, you still fight back." _She turned her head to me. I smiled weakly.

"_But that's just the thing, isn't it?_

_The ones who fall and stand up again, they stand up stronger. Wiser. _

_It's a cliche, i know._

_But can you really tell me it's not true? Can you really tell me, if it's not true, why else would we still be here, fighting ? Alive ?_

_Think about it._

_We fall down, we get scarred and we break down._

_But we stand up again. That means we're a bit stronger that before, a bit stronger that the minute we fell._

_And it will take a little bit more to knock us down again._

_And some day we won't break down anymore."_My voice cracked.

"_At the end of the day, there's always that irrational, unexplainable little spark of hope. The small voice in the back of our heads, telling us that maybe it's gonna be okay. Maybe everything will be better and maybe, just maybe we'll be fine._

_And the thing is, that little spark of hope might be blind._

_It might be false._

_But it still exists._

_And as long as we still have hope, we have everything._

_Because hope isn't a promise, no. That would be far too easy. Hope is a chance, and a chance is so much better that a promise. A chance is a million different possibilities, a chance is a million happy endings. And a chance is what keeps us hoping, dreaming."_I took a deep breath.

"_So I can't tell you that it's gonna be okay, I can't promise that. I can't tell you that some mystical power will make everything better._

_But I can tell you that as long as you are still holding onto hope, you're gonna be alright._

_You're gonna stand up, you're gonna try again, and some day you're not gonna fall apart any more. And it's not because of some magical force in the universe. It's because of you._

_So don't give up just yet._

_Because what i can tell you, is this._

_There is, surprisinly, always hope." _

I looked at her, trying to figure out her thoughts.

She looked...well, she looked sad and tired and angry and puzzled, but she also looked a bit relieved. Grateful. Because she knew most of the stuff I had gone trough, and she knew I had meant every word. She smiled weakly.

"That was from the book, wasn't it?" She asked quietly.

"...Yeah. Sort of. A bit, kind of. " I answered. She also happened to know that I am really not good at comforting people.

The book?

One of my favourites, 'Stories made of stardust'. My bible, really; the book was bloody marvellous.

My eyes shot wide open as I heard a metallic clank from the yard. _What? _

I stared into the darkness, and the wind carried a faint whirring sound. _No. Way. _I blinked. Darkness, all I saw was darkness. _But...no fucking way. _I felt my heart pounding in my ears. _No. No way, no fucking way. No. I am insane, this isn't...that can't...he can't!_

My brains were going hyper, yelling **WHAT **and trying to figure out a reasonable explanation for the sound I couldn't logically categorize.

All this had taken for about four seconds, she hadn't noticed a thing, and I blinked.

Silence. Silence and darkness.


	4. the pie and the tall, dark stranger

I didn't get that sound out of my mind. That quiet, swift whirring that I wanted to explain to myself in a form of logic I understood.  
Because I don't want to lead myself on, by thinking that maybe, just maybe this isn't all there is. Because if that little, unreasonable thought was in fact true, that would...that would change my whole life. If that metallic whirring was in fact caused by a certain time machine, that would mean that maybe I was right all along. Maybe I'm not as insane as they say I am, and maybe, just maybe there's something better out there. Something better than the best of humanity.

I felt like I wanted to sort out my mind. Get away for a bit. Scar had eventually crawled back home, and I decided to go and hang out in the local coffee shop run by one of my best friends.

See, I didn't have a lot of friends. But then again, it didn't bother me -I had no desire to be likable. But for some ridiculous reason, every now and then someone wanted to spend time with me. This, apparently, was one of those times.

I walked in to the small, practically empty room and sat to a comfy chair in a dark corner, pulling my feet up. The only source of light were the countless chtistmaslights and mechanical candles, and the smell of cinnamon and mint floated in the air. In seconds my friend with dark brown curls, bubbling personality and eyes that I couldn't really categorize into any actual colour hopped to me.

"You're nuts." She informed in a casual voice, placing a plate of...something in front of me.

"What was your first clue?" I muttered, smirking a bit. "pie?" I continued, referring to the plate.

"Pie. Why are you _voluntarily _up this early?"

"Who said I ever went to sleep?"I smirked.

She rolled her eyes, smiling a bit, and a few more people walked in.

"Hey, hey, look!" She suddenly whispered. I raised a brow a bit.

"What am I looking at?"

"That girl by the counter looks just like Belle!" she said ethusiastically, breaking the silence.

"...who?" I raised a brow a bit.

"from Beauty and the Beast." she explained.

"ooooooh" I nodded. "yeah, never seen it."

she blinked at my statement.

"_what?"_

"yeah, never seen it. Not my division."

"dude, that's like basic knowledge."

"no, knowing the solar system we live in is basic knowledge. Knowing that coconuts don't grow in palm trees is basic knowledge."

"so...Snow White? Cinderella? Sleeping Beuty?" she listed.

I stirred my tea. "nope." I said.

"I hate fairytales."I noted to her surprised face.

"and why is that?" Michael, her boyfriend, joined in to the conversation, sarcasm and hatred dripping from his voice.

I glared at him quickly. _He had stayed over for the night._ I tried to look at him as loathingly as i could without Jenny noticing.

"they're stupid and full of plot holes. Everything bad magically disappears with a kiss, a fairy godmother saves the day, true love wins, bad guy dies, everybody else lives happily ever after. And as if being illogical wasn't enough, fairytales hurt kids with the most dangerous weapon of all." I explained, stirring my tea.  
"By giving them false hope." I said with a cold voice.

Jenny walked to the counter to make new coffee for the new customers, and Michael soon followed. Michael and I...we didn't exactly get along. Maybe it's 'cause I'm really not a people person, or maybe it's 'cause he's a giant douchebag. In any case, we didn't like each other and we avoided spending time together.  
See, Jenny was a...she was a happy person. She was social and full of life, she had a cute little apron and she liked puppies and flowers and baking.  
She was kind and loving and probably the most positive person I have ever met. Her weakness was that she wanted to see the good in people. She wanted to overlook the bad things, she wanted to make the world work. Okay, maybe that isn't a weakness. But it's messing up her sense of reality.  
That's why she stayed with Michael. Even after he had cheated on her. Opposites attract, right?  
I had tried to explain to her that she was attracted to him because of the chemicals in her brain and that it wasn't _real_, that she only wanted to be with him because the part of her brain that normally judged someone's personality was temporalily blind. But, well, Jenny's Jenny and that hadn't ended well.  
"He's not really like that" she'd said.  
"He's actually really nice" she'd said.  
"You're one to talk" she'd said, with tears in her eyes. She hated arguing. She hated hurting people.  
I had tried to answer but the words got stuck in my throat. _I'm worried about you, _I wanted to say._ I'm just trying to protect you.  
_But I could see it in her eyes. She was about to break down, and I couldn't take that. She got really violent panic attacks every now and then, and I had promised her I'd do everything I could to prevent them. So I was not going to cause one myself.  
"I-I'm sorry." I had said quietly, looking her in the eyes."Maybe I'm wrong about him." I tried with a small smile. "you know I'm a pessimistic little shit."  
This had earned a small chuckle from behind her tears, and her breathing had started to settle down.

My senses sharpened again when I heard a chair creech against the floor somewhere not-so-far-away. I looked up, scanning the room to locate the source of the voice.  
Maybe I shouldn't have.  
I saw a pair of disturbingly green eyes stare right at me with no apparent reason. I raised a brow slightly, observing the person around the eyes. He was standing across the room. He was dressed quite formally, he had a suit but with the sleeves rolled and the tie loosened. He had reddish-brown hair, and all in all he looked...average. But something in his appearance made him look like he wasn't ordinary. He was...wrong. No, not quite wrong. But not quite right either. He looked puzzled and lost, but not quite in a way a person looks when they're geographically lost. In the same time he looked like he knew way more than any other breathing creature. He looked like he was hurt, like he had been in a fight that had no winners.  
I blinked.  
He blinked, still staring at me. _Wait, what? Why is he staring at me?_


	5. Out of the ordinary

The green-eyed guy seemed to like Jenny, and I figured I'd probably hear all about him later. See, Jenny had the amazing skill to actually be...likable. She had that kind of a face, you know? She looked...honest. People felt comfortable with her, and before they know it they're telling Jenny everything about their life. That would be a great quality, really, and it is, but the thing is that she happens to be friends with me. I (well, accidentally) taught her to use that quality against people. Come on, when you know everything about everyone and you know you can get anyone to tell you anything, how could you _not _sometimes threaten people with it? Don't get me wrong, we're not going CAM or anything. I just, well...okay. Jenny's...she's...well, weak. No, not weak, uh...defenseless? Is that even a word?

Let me explain.

Well. I told you she gets panic attacks, right?

I didn't say why.

Do you want to know?

Are you sure?

Sometimes people are better off not knowing.

That's why we have fairytales.  
But, well. Reality is never how we'd want it to be. Before I tell you anything, I want you to remember that we are more than our tragedies. But if I'd tell you her whole story, it'd take about a week, so I'm just going to tell you the raw facts behind her problems.

First of all, she was raped by her step-brother a few years ago.

Then she was beaten half dead by a stranger.

She started getting anonymous death-threads.

Boys at school started to hit her.

Girls started to spread rumors about her, you know, the usual shit.

She was _fourteen,_ and her mom started to beat her up.

Jenny was too kind to tell anyone.

But then her mom hit her in the head so hard she lost her sight for several days.

That's when she sued her-and won.

Her mom went to jail-but the anonymous death-threads continued.

And she continued having panic attacks.

Not subtle, little anxiety, no.

Anxiety is _never _subtle or little.

It's overpowering, ruthless and insane, and it breaks my heart that when she breaks down, there's nothing I can do but wait and say it's not real and that she's going to be okay.

She's afraid and she's hurt and she's confused and she's _anxious, _and there's nothing I can do.

Usually I just make it worse by trying to explain the chemical reactions of her brain.

That is why I want her to be able to protect herself, and I want her to feel like she's at least somewhat safe. I want her not to be afraid all the time.

Yeah, I've taught her this and that about self-defense, but most people are more afraid of knowledge that they are of physical pain. Okay, so maybe I didn't teach her by accident.

I heard her laugh by the counter.

She looked at me, smiling.

He looked at me, smiling.

Shit.

You see, Jenny also somehow always tricked everyone into thinking I was likable, too. She's the only reason I ever met my other friends, actually. She...she, probably without even realizing it, picks a person and points out their good parts, paints a picture where the person is just what someone else wants to hear, you know? Yeah, of course I know how to _act_ nice and how to _pretend _I'm something I'm not. But I never keep it up unless I need to.

I looked at the guy. Observing, trying to predict what Jenny had told him about me.

His hair was a mess. I hate how some people just...do that. How their hair just looks gorgeus just like that, and then there's people like me, whos hair...just...doesn't. His eyes were disturbingly green and disturbingly wise. You know how some people just have eyes that make them look like they know so much more than the rest of the world?

Those disturbingly wise eyes were looking right at me, and I raised an eyebrow slightly as he and Jenny walked towards me.

"Hey" Jenny started, and if marshmallows could talk I swear that would've been the exact tone they would have.

"Hey" The guy continued, and as if he didn't have enough disturbing features, his voice was low and gorgeus.

I smiled a bit.

"My, my." I anwered, putting down the book I was holding, and then raising my eyebrows to their confused faces.

"No? Honestly? Neil Young? Ring any bells?" I asked. "Jenny, did I teach you nothing?"

She just chuckled lightly. "J, this is John. He's new in town and he's recovering from an accident. Please try to act like a human being would."

The guy, _John, _looked at me like you'd look at a new colour if you saw one, like something you don't quite understand but still kind of get, something you want to figure out, because no matter how weird or improbable it is it's _there _and you want to _understand._

In a few seconds Jenny looked around, as if making sure she had somewhere else to be, and vanished, leaving the two of us alone. She had obviously planned it, and he seemed to understand it, too.

I didn't mind, actually. John seemed to be one of those guys who weren't intimidated of freaked out by silence. I took a sip of my tea.

"You're not?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm not?" I raised a brow.

"Human."

I couldn't help but smile.

I looked at him, and for a fraction of a second he looked...happy. Relieved. What?

"Oh." I smirked "You've got a problem with that?"

He blinked.

"I'm just kidding. Well, at least I'm registered as a human being." I smirked a bit.

"Are you?" I asked, taking a sip of my tea.

"Am I what?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Human."

"Oh, damn. You've got a problem with that? " he smirked.

Okay, so John Smith wasn't as dull as he could've been. I also refuse to believe he's stupid, because for now he seems like he could possibly be the wisest person I've met in a while.

He tilted his head to see what book I had been reading.

I had taped the old book together with duct tape, and the title wasn't visible.

He chuckled a bit.

"Good book, I assume."

"Good book, I confirm." I smirked.

He nodded. "Does it have a name?"

"Yeah." I answered, taking a sip.

"So, who are you, where do you come from?" I asked, changing the subject.

I wanted to see if he'd ask the title, or if he'd realise the book in itself was way more that the title. 'Cause a book without a title was limitless, it was infinite, it could be anything and you wouldn't know before you've read it. And when you've read it, the book is all about the story, not about the name. Get the picture?

"John Smith." He anwered, making my train of thought crash.

I looked at him.

"That's not the answer I wanted." I noted, raising a brow a bit.

"That's my name." He answered. "Isn't that how people usually answer when you ask them who they are?"

"You could've told me anything. You could've told me your favourite song or some of your weird habits. You could've told me how you ended up in this little dark cafe. You could've told me how you spend your spare time, you could've told me what you love and what you absolutely hate. You coul've told me your favourite book or your favourite quote, you could've told me what do you think about this universe. But instead you decited to go with-" I frowned a bit "-John Smith. I asked for your story, not for your label, you know." I explained.

He smiled.

He** Smiled**, like you smile when you're so happy you don't actually even know why you're happy anymore, but you are and it's brilliant, and for a fraction of a lifetime everything falls into place.

Then he looked lost again.

"Well, I would've" He started with a small, sad smile. "But I really don't know."

I looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Who I am. I don't know who I am." He explained.

"Deep." I noted, taking a sip again.

He laughed a bit. "No, I mean I really, actually, properly do not _remember. _I've got post-traumatic amnesia."

I blinked.

"Well, shit." I breathed out. "Do you know what happened?"

"Not really, no. I woke up in a shed in the middle of nowhere, half dead with no memory. I remember this and that, you know, hazy thoughts and half-finished ideas, almost forgotten dreams, stuff like that. Feelings. I wouldn't even know my name if I hadn't found a key with my name on it." He talked. "Haven't figured out what it opens yet, though."

I looked at him.

_Well, that explains a lot, I guess. _

"What about you?" He asked.

"What about me?"

He tilted his head a bit. "You're really not keeping up with the conversation, you know." He smiled. "I'm sorry" I started, "But I have millions of thoughts in my head in the same time, I observe everything around me and I rule out the unimportant. I try to make the world work as well as it can, I try to minimalize the damage I cause, and I try to make the human race realise how pointless it is. This requires that I plan my every action, choose my every word. I try to make people see how reality works. I try to be aware of the space around me at all times, because it's basic self-defense. I'm sorry that I can't constantly keep up with the ongoing conversation, which, to my own defense, is quite shattered, but I have this universe to worry about. Now. What about me?"

He blinked.

"Who are you, where do you come from?_" _He asked after a moment. Smiling. "She called you Jay, where does that come from?"

"Do you want the short version or the real version?"

"I'm in no hurry." He smiled.

"Okay." I started.

I told him how I got the name Jupiter, and how my friends soon shortened it to J. I told him about the girl named Goatcheese, and I told him that I actually liked being called Jupiter. You know how nicknames make you feel? Like you're important to someone?

"This." He muttered. I blinked.

"Okay" I noted, "I am positive that had nothing to do with anything. What?"

He smiled.

"You said this universe. Not the universe, this universe."

I blinked. "Oh."

"You ever heard of the multiverse theory?" I asked.

"...Probably, yeah. Sounds a bit familiar, why? You believe that there's more that one universe?"

"I'm ready to believe in anything that someone's able to explain to me in a form of logic, and right now to me it seems more logical that there are a lot more universes that the one we're in. Do you think that's crazy?"

He looked at me for a second.

"Nah. I think it's brilliant."


	6. John Smith

**(AN: Hey, I have no idea what just happened, but somehow I accidentally posted chapter 5 again instead of the actual chapter 6. I'm sorry, but to my own defence it was 2am. So, here's the real chapter, and please don't hate me)**

The green-eyed guy seemed to like Jenny, and I figured I'd probably hear all about him later. See, Jenny had the amazing skill to actually be...likable. She had that kind of a face, you know? She looked...honest. People felt comfortable with her, and before they know it they're telling Jenny everything about their life. That would be a great quality, really, and it is, but the thing is that she happens to be friends with me. I (well, accidentally) taught her to use that quality against people. Come on, when you know everything about everyone and you know you can get anyone to tell you anything, how could you _not _sometimes threaten people with it? Don't get me wrong, we're not going CAM or anything. I just, well...okay. Jenny's...she's...well, weak. No, not weak, uh...defenseless? Is that even a word?

Let me explain.

Well. I told you she gets panic attacks, right?

I didn't say why.

Do you want to know?

Are you sure?

Sometimes people are better off not knowing.

That's why we have fairytales.  
But, well. Reality is never how we'd want it to be. Before I tell you anything, I want you to remember that we are more than our tragedies. But if I'd tell you her whole story, it'd take about a week, so I'm just going to tell you the raw facts behind her problems.

First of all, she was raped by her step-brother a few years ago.

Then she was beaten half dead by a stranger.

She started getting anonymous death-threads.

Boys at school started to hit her.

Girls started to spread rumors about her, you know, the usual shit.

She was _fourteen,_ and her mom started to beat her up.

Jenny was too kind to tell anyone.

But then her mom hit her in the head so hard she lost her sight for several days.

That's when she sued her-and won.

Her mom went to jail-but the anonymous death-threads continued.

And she continued having panic attacks.

Not subtle, little anxiety, no.

Anxiety is _never _subtle or little.

It's overpowering, ruthless and insane, and it breaks my heart that when she breaks down, there's nothing I can do but wait and say it's not real and that she's going to be okay.

She's afraid and she's hurt and she's confused and she's _anxious, _and there's nothing I can do.

Usually I just make it worse by trying to explain the chemical reactions of her brain.

That is why I want her to be able to protect herself, and I want her to feel like she's at least somewhat safe. I want her not to be afraid all the time.

Yeah, I've taught her this and that about self-defense, but most people are more afraid of knowledge that they are of physical pain. Okay, so maybe I didn't teach her by accident.

I heard her laugh by the counter.

She looked at me, smiling.

He looked at me, smiling.

Shit.

You see, Jenny also somehow always tricked everyone into thinking I was likable, too. She's the only reason I ever met my other friends, actually. She...she, probably without even realizing it, picks a person and points out their good parts, paints a picture where the person is just what someone else wants to hear, you know? Yeah, of course I know how to _act_ nice and how to _pretend _I'm something I'm not. But I never keep it up unless I need to.

I looked at the guy. Observing, trying to predict what Jenny had told him about me.

His hair was a mess. I hate how some people just...do that. How their hair just looks gorgeus just like that, and then there's people like me, whos hair...just...doesn't. His eyes were disturbingly green and disturbingly wise. You know how some people just have eyes that make them look like they know so much more than the rest of the world?

Those disturbingly wise eyes were looking right at me, and I raised an eyebrow slightly as he and Jenny walked towards me.

"Hey" Jenny started, and if marshmallows could talk I swear that would've been the exact tone they would have.

"Hey" The guy continued, and as if he didn't have enough disturbing features, his voice was low and gorgeus.

I smiled a bit.

"My, my." I anwered, putting down the book I was holding, and then raising my eyebrows to their confused faces.

"No? Honestly? Neil Young? Ring any bells?" I asked. "Jenny, did I teach you nothing?"

She just chuckled lightly. "J, this is John. He's new in town and he's recovering from an accident. Please try to act like a human being would."

The guy, _John, _looked at me like you'd look at a new colour if you saw one, like something you don't quite understand but still kind of get, something you want to figure out, because no matter how weird or improbable it is it's _there _and you want to _understand._

In a few seconds Jenny looked around, as if making sure she had somewhere else to be, and vanished, leaving the two of us alone. She had obviously planned it, and he seemed to understand it, too.

I didn't mind, actually. John seemed to be one of those guys who weren't intimidated of freaked out by silence. I took a sip of my tea.

"You're not?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm not?" I raised a brow.

"Human."

I couldn't help but smile.

I looked at him, and for a fraction of a second he looked...happy. Relieved. What?

"Oh." I smirked "You've got a problem with that?"

He blinked.

"I'm just kidding. Well, at least I'm registered as a human being, but I've never actually been...average. " I explained. I didn't want to say 'normal'. Because, well, yeah. I'm gonna rant about that later.

"But who knows. This universe is so big and so great and so enormous, who knows what's out there. I've never found that scary, you know. If anything, it gives me hope. I'm getting off topic, aren't I?" I muttered, and his smirk widened.

"Are you?" I asked.

"Am I what?" he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Human."

"Oh, damn. You've got a problem with that? " he smirked.

Okay, so John wasn't as dull as he could've been. I also refuse to believe he's stupid, because for now he seems like he could possibly be the wisest person I've met in a while.

He tilted his head to see what book I was reading.

I had taped the old book together with duct tape, and the title wasn't visible.

He chuckled a bit.

"Good book, I assume."

"Good book, I confirm." I smirked.

He nodded. "Does it have a name?"

"Yeah." I answered, taking a sip.

"So, who are you, where do you come from?" I asked, changing the subject.

I wanted to see if he'd ask the title, or if he'd realise the book in itself was way more that the title. 'Cause a book without a title was limitless, it was infinite, it could be anything and you wouldn't know before you've read it. And when you've read it, the book is all about the story, not about the name. Get the picture?

"John Smith." He anwered, making my train of thought crash.

I looked at him.

"That's not the answer I wanted." I noted, raising a brow a bit.

"That's my name." He answered. "Isn't that how people usually answer when you ask them who they are?"

"You could've told me anything. You could've told me your favourite song or some of your weird habits, you could've told me how you spend your spare time, you could've told me what you love and what you absolutely hate. You coul've told me your favourite book or your favourite quote, you could've told me what do you think about this universe. But instead you decited to go with-" I frowned a bit "-John Smith. I asked for your story, not for your label, you know." I explained.

He smiled.

He** Smiled**, like you smile when you're so happy you don't actually even know why you're happy anymore, but you are and it's brilliant, and for a fraction of a lifetime everything falls into place.

Then he looked lost again.

"Well, I would've" He started with a small smile. "But I really don't know."

I looked at him, waiting fir him to continue.

"Who I am. I don't know who I am." He explained.

"Deep." I noted, taking a sip again.

He laughed a bit. "No, I mean I really, actually, properly do not _remember. _I've got post-traumatic amnesia."

I blinked.

"Well, shit." I breathed out. "Do you know what happened?"

"Not really, no. I woke up in a shed in the middle of nowhere, half dead with no memory. I remember this and that, you know, hazy thoughts and half-finished ideas, almost forgotten dreams, stuff like that. Feelings. I wouldn't even know my name if I hadn't found a key with my name on it." He talked. "Haven't figured out what it opens yet, though."

I looked at him.

_Well, that explains a lot, I guess. _

"What about you?" He asked.

"What about me?"

He tilted his head a bit. "You're really not keeping up with the conversation, you know." He smiled. "I'm sorry" I started, "But I have millions of thoughts in my head in the same time, I observe everything around me and I rule out the unimportant. I try to make the world work as well as it can, I try to minimalize the damage I cause, and I try to make the human race realise how pointless it is. This requires that I plan my every action, choose my every word. I try to make people see how reality works. I try to be aware of the space around me at all times, because it's basic self-defense. I'm sorry that I can't constantly keep up with the ongoing conversation, which, to my own defense, is quite shattered, but I have this universe to worry about. Now. What about me?"

He blinked.

"Who are you, where do you come from?_" _He asked after a moment. Smiling. "She called you Jay, where does that come from?"

"Do you want the short version or the real version?"

"I'm in no hurry." He smiled.

"Okay." I started.

I told him how I got the name Jupiter, and how my friends soon shortened it to J. I told him about the girl named Goatcheese, and I told him that I actually liked being called Jupiter. You know how nicknames make you feel? Like you're important to someone?

"This." He muttered. I blinked.

"Okay" I noted, "I am positive that had nothing to do with anything. What?"

He smiled.

"You said this universe. Not the universe, this universe."

I blinked. "Oh."

"You ever heard of the meta-universe -theory?" I asked.

"...I'd say yeah, but I really don't remember. You believe that there's more that one universe?"

"I'm ready to believe in anything that someone's able to explain to me in a form of logic, and right now to me it seems more logical that there are a lot more universes that the one we're in. Do you think that's crazy?"

He looked at me for a second.

"Nah. I think it's brilliant."


	7. the galactic fob watch

In a moment I had to get to school, and John Smith stayed in the cafe. I was in the local college, studying astrobiology for the third year now. That was mostly just for fun, though, 'cause I had job already; I worked as a journalist and as a nanny.

To be honest, I didn't hate school. I hated the people and the rules and the stupidity, but I didn't hate the school- I liked studying astrobiology. Come on, we get to harvest the universe and have serious conversations about aliens, how cool is that?

Plus, not everyone was bad. Most people were, but not everyone. I had two friends in this whole building.

There was Jack Mayhem, who was one of the best young astrophysicists I knew. His right eye was dark brown, and the left one was icy blue. He was addicted to coffee and he had a habit of talking with quotes. His life-long dream was to become a marine captain and sail in the darkness under the stars, but he went to college anyways. You know, to please his parents. He had a pointy-eared dog named Spock and a pointy-eared little sister named Emily. And I happened to be her babysitter.

Then there was Dean Johnson, a chronical underachiever who was smart but lazy, clever but tired, bright but depressed. He was your typical troublemaker with absent parents and a leather jacket. His mom had practically shoved him into college, and I'm pretty sure his life goal was pretty much to be able to go to sleep at night. Dean Johnson was, I guess, what you'd call a bully. He doesn't soften reality for anyone, and he doesn't lie to make anyone happy. But he doesn't make people feel bad just for the hell of it, he doesn't hurt anyone on purpose. He's just too tired to care if he's hurting someone's feelings, 'cause he's just trying to survive trough the day.

Jack Mayhem and Dean Johnson were both smart, beautiful and complicated.

And they did not play along well.

It could be because of the fact that Jack used to be bullied, and oh yes, by no-one else than Dean Johnson.

It could be because of the fact that they were, no matter how many times they denied it, very similar.

It could be because of the fact that Jack was irrationally jealous of me. He didn't admit it, of course. But if he wanted to hide something from me, he should really learn to lie better. But then again, he made his opinion on Dean Johnson quite clear.

The fact that I had no intentions of being in a relationship with anyone didn't make the situation any easier.

Why am I telling you this?

Because my first lesson was one of my favourite ones. The science of Doctor Who. Oh yes, we really do have a course called that. And it's exactly what you'd expect it to be. Most of the time we study the possibilities of time travelling or try to map out the universe around us, or try to figure out the whole 'bigger on the inside' -thing.

It was an optional course, of course, and we didn't actually learn anything, but it was nice. And both of the forementioned boys happened to be there, too. Jack was early as always, as I rushed trough the doors, pulling a rubber band out of my hair.

I came here on a motorbike, and that meant I needed to keep my hair up under the helmet. For some irrational reason not having my hair open made me really, really uncomfotable.

I put a hand trough my hair as I sat down in a corner. More students started to flow in, and I stared at the room absent-mindly. In a few minutes Jack walked up to me with a giant smile on his face. I couldn't help but smile back and raise a brow a bit.

"It's done." He announced proudly.

"What's done?"

"It's ready."

"What's ready? Your plan to take over the world?"

He laughed a bit.

"Nah, I'm still working on that." He started to go trough his bag, pulling out all kinds of more or less reasonable things. Like a few notebooks, a Snickers, something I believe used to be a computer memory from the 90s, a screwdriver and a few electric chords, and old book and a remote controller- you get the picture?

"No, I mean..." He muttered while pulling out the insides of an old DS and a half-eaten sandwitch.

"...I'm...ready." He pulled out a round, metallic object about the size of a Jammy Dodger with a smile on his face.

"Oh my god." I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Oh yes." He smirked.

"You finished it? It's, like, really, actually, properly ready?" I asked. It was his infinite project, and he had been working on it for as long as I can remember. It was a fob watch, but not an ordinary one. No, it did not turn anyone into a Time Lord. It was just a watch, but it also showed the movements of the planets of our solar system in real time. Largest moons, also, of course. I remeber planning it with him, you know, making sure it was actually possible. He was an astrophysicist, not a mechanic. I, on the other hand, had been building gadgets and thingies from the age of seven. He had always been building it, but I never thought he'd actually finish it. Whenever he was sad or hurt or just needed something to do, he went back to building the clock. It never seemed to work properly, though- there was always some little quirk bothering him. I think part of it was because he knew than when he'd finish it he'd have to actually face hes emotions, and as long as he had something to build he could shove his feelings aside for a minute. Sometimes I joined in and we worked together, trying and failing and slowly creating the most beautiful watch I had ever seen. With steaming cups on the table, listening to each others music or with a neverending silence surrounding us.

He hung it in the air in front of me with a smile.

I turned it around in my hand, looking at the details in awe.

"It's incredible" I muttered, clicking the button to open it up.

It was...beautiful. That's all I have to say. It was beautiful and complicated and detailed and incredible.

The platform where the glass beads that represented planets circled was painted with space-couloured nailpolish. The old clockworck parts were still kind of showing here and there, the actual clock was built from mismatching parts, parts gathered from here and there and everywhere, and yet the whole thing still managed to not only work but to be the most beautiful object I have ever seen.

"It's yours." He noted, and I stared at him.

"No." I muttered in disbelief.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"But-"

"I want to give it to you. Now shut up and accept it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the teacher bursted in, so I just glared at Jack evilly.

Needless to say, also the teacher was pretty exited about this class. Come on, he gets paid for talking about doctor who, wouldn't you be?

He started to talk about something, but I didn't listen. Instead I watched as our little blue-green bead circled itself on the dark, glittering platform in front of me.

Jack smiled, proud of himself, when I didn't argue back and placed the delicate chain of the clock around my neck.

In a few minutes Dean Johnson opened the door, raised a brow to the teacher who didn't even expect him to be in time anymore.

He sat to a chair in front of me, leaned back on the chair and lifted up his collar.

It was Monday, and I think no-one thought anyone would be in the mood of doing any real work, so we just talked about things in groups.

"But where are they?" Dean Johnson muttered, playing with a ballpointpen.

I raised a brow slightly.

"Elsewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere." I answered, leaning a bit closer. "See, maybe our world will never interract with an another one. But just because we haven't met them doesn't mean they're not out there. Because time isn't a line, it's a space. A very irrelevant, and very, very flexible space. Maybe not right now, maybe not any more, maybe not in a long time, but aliens exist. I mean, if we're alone in this universe, like most humans like to think, doesn't that sound lonely to you? Hopeless? "

A girl bursted trough the door. A girl I didn't know, and she scanned the room with her eyes.

I raised a brow a bit, looking at the girl and not listening to the counter-arguments.

The girl had old jeans, a plaid, and dark curls.

Her eyes stopped on me, and she walked closer.

I looked at her. I did not know this girl, but yet she seemed to know me.

She leaned to the table, and by the time that happened most of the students were looking at the situation.

She looked at me with a serious face.

"We need your help."


	8. Team Free Will

I raised a brow a bit.

"We?"

"The student body."

She glared at the teacher, probably to make sure he was out of hearing district. Then she looked at the people around the table, like...calculating. She looked like she was going to say something, but I interrupted.

"Just mine or ours in general?" I asked, looking up at the girl.

"Both. Maybe. I don't know."

She took a short breath.

"You know how we have all those clubs and cliques and groups and things?" She asked, and I blinked. Of course I knew. I've been in this goddamn building for three years, so yeah, I know we have about a thousand clubs working in here. We literally had a group for practically everything; from gardening to Doctor Who and from decorating to motorbikes, baking, knitting, parkour, books, movies, music -you name it, and I swear to God we have a bunch of nerds freaking out about it.

"Yeah." She muttered. "Look, let's not cause a scene about it, but people have gone missing and Team Free Will found something they want you to take a look at."

I raised my eyebrows. What the fuck?

"What, the Supernatural fandom? That's them, right?" Jack joined into the conversation.

"Yeah."

"What do you want us to do?" I asked, and Dean stared at me in disbelief.

"Do you actually believe in that shit?" He asked, and I turned my gaze from the girl to Dean.

"I'm willing to believe in anything someone's able to explain to me in any form of logic, and she hasn't even tried yet. Plus, if they want our help, it's gotta be something pretty awesome."

He shut up, and the girl gave me a weak smile.

"If you're in, I'll explain everything over lunch."

I shrugged my shoulders. After all, we only regret the chances we never take, so why not?

The next class I had was russian, and then I had english poetry. English poetry I liked, but russian? Not so much. But then again, school's not supposed to be fun, is it?

When it was finally time for lunch, Jack and I walked trough the practically empty hallway. Dean had refused to come, and Jack had insisted on coming.

"Are those things real? I mean, you know, the demons and the angels and so on?" Jack asked, and I smiled a bit.

"As long as they can't prove it I'm going to say no. But then again, I can't prove them wrong either, so who knows. "

I unlocked an old, heavy door and started to walk down the stairs.

You see, Team Free Will had insisted on having their meetings in the basement. Something about iron doors or something like that.

I pushed back another heavy door, and entered a room very similar to our lab. There were a lot of put-together computers and scanners, wires, notes and paperstacks. About a dozen students were hanging around the room, all of them now looking at us.

"So?" I raised a brow, stepped over a white line and walked to a guy sitting on a table.

"Yeah." The earlier girl stepped closer with a small box in her hand.

"Like I said, people have gone missing." She started. "We've been checking out the places and scanning the areas, you know, the usual stuff. Ed, show her the graph."

A guy, Ed something apparently, clicked a few buttons and soon a multicoloured graph emerged to the screen.

I leaned closer.

"What am I looking at? Radioactivity, energyspikes, that's time, soundwaves, fusion-" I muttered, looking closer.

"Yeah. We did a full-on scan, and noticed a spike on the soundwaves. We looked at it closer, and there were all kinds of readings that we couldn't read, energies that we couldn't name and illogically high improbabilities with the missing persons. They all disappeared with no trace, nothing in common, except for the fact that they were all young, tired and lonely." The girl explained while I looked at the graphs.

"Then the scanned went crazy. There was a massive spike in every possible thing we were measuring, and the whole thing shut down. Of course we later went to check out the source, you know, the epicentre, and guess what we found."

I looked at her, and she glared at the box in her hand.

She lifted off the top and unfilded a piece of cloth, and I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn't imaginig it.

It was burned, carved, shattered and bruised, but it was deffinetely a screwdriver.

A sonic screwdriver.

I blinked.

"You sure it isn't a toy?"

"Almost. We did run some tests, but I believe you guys have the right technology for that, right?"

I nodded a bit.

"You have any theories?" I muttered as I turned the screwdrive around.

"I-I don't know. I mean, we can't identify most of the energies that seem to spike whenever a person goes missing, so..."

"So it could be an alien?"

She shrugged.

"Could be a toy. Could be an experiment. Could be...do you have suspects, anything? Like, I don't know, anything?"

"Nothing quite matches." A guy sitting on the floor noted.

I looked at Jack. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this, but what do you think? Angels, a cyberplanner? Nanobugs, time agency? Or just some aliens we know nothing about? You know, kind of like E.T but reversed?"

He laughed a bit. "That's about it."

I took a breath.

"We'll go examinate that. Send the graph to my laptop, and attach every relevant file. Send me the maps, the victims, the exact times and the theories you have. Send me every little detail and every single thought. Because ladies and gentlemen, there's a chance you're dealing with a quantum locked psychopath."


	9. A bad idea with french fries on the side

When I finally, four hours, three cups of tea and a bullshitted essay later got out of school, I headed right back to the cafe. I needed to concentrate and think, and the heavy-metal loving girl living in the flat above mine wouldn't be much help with that. But the cafe... it was one of those places where time just kind of...seizes to exist. Where you can see the dust floating in the dim sunlight and the old leather-bound books lay around, waiting to be read. Where the coffeecups and cushions never quite match, where the chrismastlights circle the walls and the candlelight flickers as someone walks by. Where you can pick up a book just for a minute and then realize it's been two hours. Where a faint smell of cinnamon and mint floats in the air, and where you can always find exactly what you need. A chair to sink into, a corner to hide in, a fictional world to step into, a shoulder to cry on, a cup on coffee with whipped cream on it...

So yeah, I liked this little cafe. I liked hanging out in here. Plus hanging out with Jenny reminded me that not everyone is that horrible.

I walked in and sat (well, more like collapsed) to an armchair in the corner. For some ridiculous reason I always feel the most comfortable in corners. Something about undeveloped self-defense systems, I guess.

I pulled my laptop, a stack of paper and a half-eaten Snickers out of my old leather bag.

I stared at a map where the Ed Something had marked the places where people had gone missing, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

The victims, they were all different. Yeah, okay, they were all under 20, but other than that they seemed to have nothing in common. They went to different schools, liked differen things, they didn't have mutual friends of hobbies. Nothing. There was no geographical pattern, no chronical pattern, nothing. They were all seemingly average, seemingly unimportant and seemingly normal.

_But then again. Everyone's important in the right consept. Who knows._

I looked at the official "Missing"-photos. They were all quite formal, you know, from family gatherings, Thanksgivings and weddings, things like that.

They all looked more or less uncomfortable, looking away and pulling down their sleeves, trying to avoid the camera.

But who wouldn't be a little uncomfortable, being forced to go to a boring party.

I sighed a bit and looked up just as Jenny walked closer to me.

"What are you doing?" she asked, amused. "trying to mentally answer an email?"

I smiled a bit. "Nah. Just schoolwork."

"Yeah, why do you go there, anyways? I mean, you've got a job already, why the fuck do you voluntarily go to school?"

I smiled a bit.

You see, Jenny was one of those people who wanted to get out of school as soon as possible. Not because she hated educaation, no. Because she hated being bullied and she hated being told she would never amount to anything, she hated being surrounded by people who hated her and she hated being forced to do things she wasn't interested in, to write essays about the French revolution when everything she really wanted was to run a cute, little coffeeshop.

"So I could find myself a nice little planet half across the universe and move the fuck out of here." I smirked.

"Well, remember to send me a card on christmas." I chuckled a bit, and she placed a large, steaming cup in front of me.

Tea.

Of course it was tea. I drink about a gallon of green tea in a day, and she knows it.

"So, uh-" She started, and I raised a brow a bit.

"I...kind of, uh, did a thing..." She muttered, twirling a curl between her fingers. _If she'd getting married or something stupid like that-_

"...and please don't punch me-" she continued, and I blinked. _What did she do. _

"But there's this one Halloween party. and I, kind of, sort of, promised that we would go on a double...date." She muttered, and I stared at her, prosessing the information.

"Who with?"

She frowned a bit. "Please don't punch me."

"Tell me."

"...Jack." She said with a quiet, vunerable voice.

I blinked, and let my head hit the table.

"sorry..." she muttered .

See, I liked Jack, sure, he was amazing. He was smart and corgeous and funny and the way he thought was absolutely beautiful, and frankly he was everything I'm not. He was literally one of the best human beings I had ever met, and I was constantly amazed by him. But the thing is, I am really not a girlfriend type, I'm not. I...I really just couldn't be in a relationship. It's not natural to me to be attached to a person. I'm not emotional, I'm not sympathetic, I'm not sentimental or understanding. I'm nor optimistic or friendly. I'm a pessimistic little shit and everyone should just stay far away of me while I sit in a dark corner for a couple of decades. I would literally be the worst girlfriend ever and a date with me would probably scar him for life.

That being said, I really did not want to go on a date with him.

My train of thought crashed when my laptop made a small, beeping noise. I lifted my head from the desk, groaned quietly and looked at the screen.

The files had finally completed downloading, and I shoved my thoughts aside to look trough the pages.

I read trough a bunch of theories about kidnappings, but they were all unlikely. But then again, every other theory that seemed to pop up was just as unlikely. Because no-one just goes missing. Not like that, they always leave a trace, and there always is a reason.

"Hey, uh, say something?" I heard from besides me, looked up and blinked a few times. Right. Jenny. Yeah.

"What?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"We're allright, right? I won't wake up with only one eyebrow or anything?"

I blinked. Yeah, I once shaved off a guy's eyebrow when he was sleeping, long story. But why would I do that to Jenny?

"Why...what...huh?" I tried.

I blinked.

"The date?" I asked, recalling the earlier part of the conversation.

She raised a brow, as in, yes.

I took a breath.

"Well, yeah, I'll go. But if Jack runs screaming away I will blame you."

A smile spread to her face, and she shrugged, walking away. Well, more like skipping.

I sighed a bit, took a sip from the tea and looked at the file again.

There had got to be something useful in here. Something.

I think that the only weird thing about the missings was, apart from the actual missings of course, was that no-one seemed to care much. Not really. There were pictures circulating facebook and articles on local newspapers, but not a single policeman searching, not a single crying friend skipping school, no sad facebook comments, nothing. Even the official reports were amazingly blank: the victims literally had vanished without a trace. No half-eaten meals, no missed dates, no un-returned essays, no friends left waiting in cafes.

The whole thing seemed to be too well planned, like they were all ready to vanish.

I read trough dozens of pages of bullsit I found nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I looked up from the screen as I heard my phone vibrating, and I picked it up.

It was Jack, and I answered with a quiet humm.

"Hey, come here. I found something that might actually be useful" He said, and I heard him go trough some papers or something, and I smiled a bit. Of course he had to examinate the samples right away. From the screwdriver, I mean.

"...I'll just finish...the..." He muttered, obviously forgetting what he was saying halfway trough a sentence and getting distracted. For an astrophysicist he had the attention spam of a seven-year-old.

"Yeah, okay." I laughed, and hang up as I saw Jenny chat with some customers, and my mind started to form a plan.

"Jenny?" I asked, getting her attention.

"If you help me with something I promise I'll let you keep your eyebrows." I continued, and a smile appeared to her face.

I smiled back. "What time are you free tonight?" I asked, as I dialed a number.

"About six-ish, I guess? I'll probably be able to get Mike to do the night shift if I want- "

"Yeah. We want that." I smiled, and lifted the phone to my ear.

"DJ?" I said as he answered. "Remember how you own me a favor?" I asked, smirking, and Jenny started to look suspicious.

The next few minutes I spent convincing Jenny that what I wanted her to do wasn't illegal.

That wasn't exactly true.

I wanted her, and Dean, to go to one of the victim's house and pretend to be from our school magazine. I would've done it myself, but Jenny looked just appropriate and kind enough to be believable. Dean on the other hand looked just inappropriate and tough enough. Meanwhile I looked like a heroin addict most of the time: I always had rings around my eyes, and I never cared enough to cover them up. My hair was always a curly mess, and I didn't exactly care about that, either. I liked to dress in combat boots, black t-shirts, army pants- that kind of things, or gigantic sweater and hoodies, long scarfs and old army jackets. My ears were full of earrings and I lined my eyes with black. I had a lots of freckles and a lots of bracelets. I had wide shoulders, wide hips and wide thighs, long legs and long arms, a narrow waist- and I'm honestly starting to believe this isn't even a body type- and all in all I did not look very reliable, but Jenny on the other hand...

After a lot of explaining and a bit of blackmailing Jenny finally agreed, and I finally left to see what Jack had found.

I walked down the hollow halls of our school, and my footsteps echoed all around me. When I walked trough the lab doors, Jack was frantically going trough some papers.

"So what did you find?" I asked, walking up to him.

"Do you remember when a few weeks back we examinated the possibilities of using lasers on sonic technology?"

"Yeah?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

He looked at me. "This is exactly the kind of technology you'd need for that." He said quietly, and I opened my mouth to answer. The world was full of Doctor Who fans, surely one of them could've built a working sonic screwdriver.

"But that's not all." He continued before I could say anything. "The lasers, they- I don't even know what they do, but they seem to have thousands of different ways to rearrange, and I haven't even found the powersource yet, but the lasers seem to be able to arrange themselves according to the situation, and -and I can't identify some of the materials, J."

I blinked. "Like self-assimilating alien apps?" I asked, and when he didn't answer, I sighed a bit and muttered a quiet, sarcastuc "brilliant."

"Are you really saying it's alien? Like, actually, properly Time Lord? Because...I mean..." I stared at him.

"I have no idea. Because...I mean..." He groaned and hit his head on a wall.

I would've laughed, but I was too busy having a mental breakdown. Because if that was a real, actual sonic screwdriver, that would mean that The Doctor probably had something to do with the missings. And that would mean that The Doctor was real. And judging by the look of the screwdriver, he wasn't in very good shape.

But if he was real, what the fuck was he doing in here?

"Please tell me you have a way of proving me wrong." He muttered, putting a hand trough his hair and handing me a stack of paper.

I stared at the papers for God nows how long, and eventually gave up.

"I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing." I muttered as I put them down to a desk and sat next to him.

He groaned, throwing his head back in a chair.

"Do you realize-" He started.

"Yes I fucking do, Jack." I answered and put a hand trough my fringe.

I closed my eyes and let my head drop to the table.

"What now?" He asked with a small voice after a couple of minutes of silence.

I breathed out.

"Well, I do have a bad plan on how to figure out the missings." I answered tiredly.

"Bring it. I bet it can't be crazier that actually suggesting that a two-hearted alien happened to crashland to our universe and lose his fucking screwdriver, which is pretty much what I'm starting to think right now."

I smiled a bit and turned to look at him. "It involves Jenny, Dean Johnson and a double-sized milkshake with french fried on the side." I noted. "If you're in I'll explain on the way."

"On the way to where?" He asked, starting to pile up his papers.

I smiled. "To the last victim's house."

He smirked a bit.

"Great, a crazy break-in plan. Just what I needed." He smiled, standing up.

"We're not breaking in, idiot. We're sitting in the car, drinking a doble-sized milkshake as Jenny and Dean are pretending to be journalists from a student magazine." I explained as innocently as I could, and stood up.

"Unless they're not home, of course."I continued.

"Then we're breaking in."

He gave me a small laugh as we started walking away.

"You do realize this is a crazy plan and will probably never work?" Jenny asked me after I had explained the whole thing to them.

"Yes I do." I noted. "But that's not the point. Now, shall we?"

"You do realize that we might get arrested?" she asked as we were walking towards his car.

"We might not." I smirked. "Honestly, we're just a bunch of sad teenagers mourning the loss of-" I checked the name from the papers "-Marie Louise." Jack smiled a bit, rolled his eyes and turned the keys.

"Who is honestly going to arrest a teenaged journalist? After all, you're really just doing them a favor."

"I'm sorry, but how is this a favor?" Dean joined in to the conversation, and I rolled my eyes a bit.

"Publicity, Dean. That's how missing kids get found." I answered, and Jenny crossed her arms in the back seat.

"I swear to God you're insane." She muttered

"I know." I smiled, and turned up the radio.

In about twenty minutes I was sitting in the car with a phone in one hand and a milkshake in the other. Jack was tapping the wheel nervously, and Jenny and Dean were standing by a nearby door.

"Why are you so nervous?" I muttered, trying to fixate my eyes to them.

"I'm not nervous. I'm having a mental overload." He muttered back, and I couldn't help but smile a little.

In a few seconds someone opened the door for Jenny and Dean, and they walked in. I stared at the door in my thoughts, for a few minutes probably.

"Look." Jack whispered suddenly, and I looked.

The only problem was that I had no idea what I was looking at.

In a few seconds I realized a form -a person, was walking towards the house as well.

I blinked. "This is not good. Or then it's actually very good." He whispered, looking at the person walking closer."I can't decide."

"Wait a minute." I muttered. "That's...That's John Smith."

**(AN: Hey, tell me what you think about this 'cause I'm literally making it up as I go. Honestly, my life is boring and I'm trying to avoid schoolwork, so please, please tell me what you think about the characters, the story altogether, the current weather or anything at all)**


	10. wait, what?

I stared at him for a few seconds.

That was deffinetly John Smith.

And it looked disturbingly much as if he was walking towards the same house Jenny and Dean were currently in.

And for some reason I felt like if John Smith would run into them, he would realize it's a lie in the blink of an eye.

Yep, he turned to the driveway.

Basically I had two options here. Stay in the car or run out and stop him. Both of these were equally bad: staying in was like giving in to the universe, because I would have no control over what would happen. Probably he would understand that Jenny and Dean were lying, and I didn't know him well enough to tell wether or not he would keep it to himself. There was, of course, the small probability that if he'd know I was in on this, he'd trust me enough to keep his mouth shut. But of course, that would mean I'd have to get out of the car in about ten seconds, and preferably in a way that wouldn't lead to me answering questions like 'why were you stalking a probable crime scene'.

And running out- well, it would cause a scene. It would mean I'd probably have to explain this and that to John Smith. But it would also mean that maybe Jenny and Dean would get out of the house with some valuable information.

"Who?" Jack asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

I breathed out.

I blinked. "John Smith?" I tried, since I was quite sure he was the only person Jack could be referring to.

He nodded a bit.

"A guy I met in the morning. Smart. Weird. Post-traumatic amnesia." I talked fast while I handed the milkshake to Jack, then grapped the door handle.

"What are we doing?" He put the food away and reached the handle of the door.

"I'm saving our plan from possible destruction. Your help isn't necessary." I opened the door, and the track of his motion stopped.

I stepped out of the car and breathed quietly. I wasn't sure what I was about to do, and that was quite alarming. I _always _knew what I was about to do. I _always _had a plan. Usually a bad one, but a plan nevertheless.

I took a breath, and a step, and another, walking after him.

He was less than ten meters away from the door when he heard me and slowly turned away.

He blinked and stared at me.

"You...live here?" he asked, tilting his head a bit, and it sounded like he didn't quite think it was true.

Wait. So he doesn't know who lives here?

I mean, if he knows, well, at least he doesn't know he knows. If I lied he'd probably want to go inside. I mean, odds are he's here because of the missings. He's _exactly _the kind of a person who tries to figure out something like this.

"Are you here because of the missings?" I asked, avoiding the question to see his reaction.

He blinked and stood up a bit taller.

"Do you know something about that?"

I weighed my opinions. I could tell him what I knew. I could lie. I could alter the truth. I didn't exactly know this man, not really, but yet he somehow made me feel like he could be trusted. He looked like he could help, like he wanted to help and like he was just smart enough to help.

That scared the living thing out of me, because really, that is one of the most powerful weapons there is; knowledge. And not just that, _being able to get people to trust you. Being able to get people to willingly tell you things. _And on top of that, I really, honestly thought that I would be immune to that kind of things. But there he was, looking smart, honest, _true-_

I breathed in and shook my head a bit, closing my eyes for a moment. "Not yet." I muttered. "But two of my friends are inside. Please believe me when I say that I'm trying to do the right thing here, and come away with me before they notice we're here." I looked into his eyes, pleading.

Because figuring out the missings, getting closer to the truth, finding out if the Doctor really was _real _(and slash or involved in this whole thing) suddenly seemed way more meaningful than my job, my studies, my hobbies, anything. Because, after a long, long time, this one day had given me hope.

Something I have not felt in a long, long time.

But now, there was that small spark of hope, the possibility that maybe, just maybe there was still hope for this universe. The possibility that humans wouldn't fuck up as much as they possibly could, and the possibility that the life beyond our atmosphere was so much more beautiful than that beneath it.

And I wanted to hold on to that hope, I wanted to figure this out.

And that meant that Jenny and Dean had to get out of the house without waking up any suspicions, and possibly getting out of the house with some new information.

And that ment John Smith should not get involved.

He looked into my eyes and opened his mouth to say something.

But instead he just nodded silently and took a step towards me.

I blinked and took a step away from the house.

"we've got a car near by." I noted quietly, nodding towards it, and I couldn't help smiling a bit.

He walked slowly with his hands in his pockets, and when the house was deffinetly out of hearing district, he broke the thankful silence between us.

"So what do you know about the missings?" He muttered, looking up at the sky.

I considered lying. But in a fraction of a second i figured he would catch a lie unless it was a really, really well planned one. So I decited to go with the truth. Well, a part of the truth. I decited to leave out the part where a fandom had lead us here, and the theory where we were seriously considering the possibility that an alien with two hearts had more or less purposelly crashlanded to our universe, and we were now tracking him down. Because I realize how insane that sounds, even if it is what part of me is hoping to be true.

"Not much." I answered, looking at Jack's questionizing face in the car window. "All we know is that they are just a bit too much out of the ordinary, and we want to figure the whole thing out."

I took a breath. "We ran a few tests and there were some weird energy spikes whenever a person goes missing." I shrugged. "We wanted to check out if they knew anything."

He nodded quietly. "I noticed the same thing." he muttered, and I turned to look at him. He was going trough the pockets of his jacket. A jacket that was probably an army leftover. It was worn out, but a bit too narrow for his shoulders. The sleeves were a bit too long, and despite the fact that he was probably at least a few years older than me, it made him look like a kid in his fathers clothes.

He obviously found whatever he had been looking for from his pocket, because the next thing I registered was a gadget of some sort. It looked...well, very put-together-making-do. I have no idea what it actually was, but I'm guessing it used to be a telephone, probably partly a remote controller. Possibly a radio. I furrowed my eyebrows a bit.

He chuckled a bit, looking down at the gadget.

"It's...uh, it's a probe I made from bits an pieces. A telephone, a radio, a broken toaster, I'm not quite sure what the one thing was, but it appears to be working. Measures radiation. " He looked a bit confused for a moment."It also makes computer screens lose their magnetic field and cucumbers grow all weird. Not quite sure why, though." He rambled, and I smiled a bit to myself, leaning to the car. John Smith seemed to be going full-on Tony Stark.

"Anyway, I heard about the missings in the morning, at the cafe, you know, and thought I'd take a look at it. When there seemed to be no proper investigation or anything, I thought I'd...just... " He furrowed his eyebrows and looked confused. "I don't know." He continued dismissevly. I'm not sure, but I feel like he didn't mean that he didn't know what he was doing. I think he ment he didn't know if this was something he'd normally do. I mean, if he'd remember what he normally does. "But anyway. I scanned the area, and there was some weird activity, and when I found out this was the home of the first person to go missing-" He explained, leaning to the car next to me and looking up at the sky again.

"Yeah." I muttered, smiling a bit. "Pretty much what we're doing here."

"We? You and your sidekick in the car?" He nodded towards Jack with a small smile.

I laughed a bit and looked up. The stars were beginning to show.

"Yeah, us, plus two other guys. They're inside right now, trying to get some information. Didn't I tell you that already?"

"Well, I have trouble keeping up with the conversation every now and then." He muttered after a moment of silence, and I could hear the smile in his voice.


	11. Eleven

**(A.N: So I fixed a few typos and rearranged some sentences, 'cause I finished this chapter in the middle of the night and my head wasn't working properly. Tell me what you think of the story so far !)**

I...Okay. I had known Jack for about three years. I'd say he was my best friend, but I don't really categorize my friends like that. See, they're all too...different. There's Dean Johnson, who I can call when I want to hit a pub or go shoot something. There's Scar, who could do both if she wasn't underage. There's Jenny, who I can hang around with to reset my mind or to get a new perspective on things. And then there's Jack. Jack, who's house I can walk into whenever I feel like it. Jack, who won't question it if I sit silently for a couple of hours. Jack, who will sit quietly with me. Jack, who seems to see the world in a whole new level. Jack, who is, without a doubt, the best human being I have ever met. Jack, who seems to be the only person to have any idea about how I look at this universe.

Jack, who had never, _ever _looked at me like that.

He had rolled down the window, and I opened my mouth to tell him who John Smith was.

But the look in his eyes stopped me.

Because during these three years he had seen me angry, he had seen me sad, he had seen me tired, he had seen me calm. He had seen me laugh, he had seen all my fake smiles and he had seen me break down. I have yelled at him, I have surprised him, I have helped him.

But not once has he looked at me like _that._

His eyes were full of...I don't even know what. Pain, for sure. _What did I do?_

Disbelief. Bitterness. Hope? Caring. Sorrow.

That was a look I couldn't label. I couldn't explain it, I couldn't categorize it.

"I'm John Smith. I'm also here because of the missings, but you seem to be ahead of me." the man next to me said happily, and I blinked.

I furrowed my eyebrows a bit, and Jack looked at him.

"This whole town seems to be insane, really. It's like even the laws of physics don't care about anything in here" John Smith rambled.

I didn't take my eyes off of Jack, and tiredness started to creep into his eyes. Anger.

I blinked.

_Wait, what?_

"What? What do you mean?" I muttered, and they both looked at me.

I turned to look at John Smith. Whatever Jack was thinking about, I'll probably hear about it later. I wasn't going to let whatever bothered him bother me.

"Hm?" he answered before remembering his earlier words. "Oh. Just...you know, strange things. Little things, invisible things, unimportant things. Like...hm. Well, I'm staying at this one motel, and there was a phone box in front of it when I checked in. You know, one of those old ones. But when I left today, it wasn't there anymore. " he shrugged. "could be just my amnesia, though." He added with a smile.

I blinked, and instinctively looked at Jack. But he wasn't looking at me.

"And every now and then it's like reality isn't quite working, and almost like the people here live in a haze, you know? Like they see the world around them but they don't really _see_ it. " He looked frustrated."It's like..." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking up. "When people here look up, they see a million little lights. When I look up, I look at the stars, and I _know _them. " He frowned a bit. "I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense. I swear it would be really helpful if I remembered who I am."

I nodded a bit. "Nothing's making much sense these days." I muttered, and looked up as I heard Jenny and Dean come out of the house.

They thanked the woman who had let them in and started walking towards us.

"So?" I asked, but they both ignored me.

"He one of the nutcases?" Dean greeted us with a tired voice, noddind towards John Smith who furrowed his eyebrows a bit.

"Dean!" Jenny said, sounding like a mother.

"I've got post-traumatic amnesia, if that answers your question." He said, and Dean blinked.

"Did you find out anything relevant?" Jack said, and both Jenny and Dean looked at him.

They shook their heads a bit.

"I'm sorry." Jenny started "But no. The missing girl had nothing abnormal about her. She had been quite quiet, but not more than usual. Altough it seemed like the parents hadn't known her very well. I mean, they let us take a look at her room, and I feel like the girl had been nothing like the parents told us she was. Little things were off, you know, music taste, books she had, things like that. " She took a breath. "And they told us she had had no special intrests or talents, but in her room we found drawings, and some things she had written. The girl was good."

"So either they're lying or they really didn't know their little girl at all?" Jack answered, and Jenny nodded a bit.

"Makes sense, I guess." Dean continued. "they had three other children, and to me it seemed like the girl had mostly just spent time in her bedroom. No wonder the parents had no time to get to know her, right?"

"...right." I nodded a bit, and noticed Dean looking at me. He looked like he was about to say something, but he stayed silent.

"Maybe we should just call it a day and go home, what do you think?" Jack sighed. "Marie Louise seemed to be no help with this."

everyone mumbled agreeingly, and John Smith took a step away from the car.

"Well. If you find something out or need my help with anything, I'll probably be eating my meals at the cafe." He noted, and I smiled a bit.

"Yeah" I answered as everyone started to climb into the car and John Smith walked away.

Everyone was mainly silent as Jack dropped us off. Dean noted that he thought this whole thing was stupid and that the kids had probably just bailed to get rid of this stupid town and their stupid families, but other than that no-one said a thing. And old mixtape played in the background, and Jack looked disturbingly tense all the time. I was worried he might drive over a pedestrian just for the heck of it.

He left me and Jenny at the cafe, 'cause my aparment was practically right next to it.

The roads were silent, and the cafe was the only source of light besides the full moon over us.

In less than few minutes after Jenny had gone inside and I had turned around the corner, I heard a frustrated groan and some mumbling across the street.

I looked up, and automatically stared at the man swaying around, pointing at the sky.

He was either very drunk or very insane, and I stopped walking to hear what he was saying.

"Oi! Why won't you start working? It's not that complicated!" He muttered, walking around, and I realized he was holding some sort of a controller with a fading light on it.

"No, no, no! You can't be broken!" He mumbled, hitting the thing and swiring around.

It was too dark to really see what he looked like, but for some reason I was pretty sure I didn't need to place my keys between my fingers. For a minute I thought I could just go home and let it be, but curiosity won. I took a step closer.

He let out a frustrated groan and turned around once more.

"This is it" he argued to himself, "Why would you bring me here? More importantly, why would you bring me here and _stop working?_"

"Hey, you okay?" I said as I walked closer, since I had nothing better to say.

He turned around dramatically, probably trying to locate me, and he seemed to loose his balance.

"...Yeah, sure, I'm fine, yes." He answered, and swung the controller up again.

He looked like he could fall over any time. He walked closer, looking like a drunken giraffe.

My stomach dropped.

_A drunken giraffe._

My eyes widened a bit as he approached.

….._no. It can't be._

"Are you drunk?" I asked, getting a surprised, a bit offended look in return.

"What? No!"

"What...are you doing?" I tried. There were three options here. One, I had Matt Smith, drunk, in my back yard. Two, I had a very talented cosplayer, probably drunk, in my backyard. Three, The Doctor had in fact crashed to our universe, and he was in my back yard. Drunk.

"I'm just trying to get this stupid thing to work!" He mumbled to his machine, which seemed to be a homemade version of a game controller of some sort. "This place is supposed to be important but I-" his voice faded, as if he forgot to say the rest of the sentence out loud. In fact, he sound like he wasn't going to say that out loud at all.

"Who are you?" I asked, thinking this was a question that would narrow down my options.

I was wrong.

"John Smith." He stood up a bit taller.

_Crap._

"I'm here to measure the air structure." He pulled out the psychic paper badge with an overdramatic move and a disturbingly serious face.

I blinked, and to play his game, glanced at the paper.

It was blank, and I raised a brow a bit.

"Uh-huh." I answered sarcastically, and he turned over the paper to look at it, furrowing his non-existent eyebrows.

He put away the badge, and glared at his controller again.

I sighed a bit. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm tired, and I'm not going to play along with your games all night." I talked, "But you're under no obligation to tell me the truth. So unless you intend to, I'll just leave you alone now."

He looked at me, looking like he was trying to figure something out. Make a desicion.

Apparently he made the desicion to tell me, because he started talking with a honest, serious voice.

"I'm the Doctor." He started, and I blinked. "Something happened to my travelling machine and now I'm here. Not sure why, though. "

"No." I muttered. I wasn't exactly planning on saying that out loud.

I closed my eyes. "You'd better be telling the truth here." I muttered, and closed my eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

I looked at him. "Well, first of all, I'm still pretty assured you're drunk. Secondly, the fake name and the blank badge?"

He smiled a bit, and I didn't see why.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his controller lit up and beeped.

He stared at the machine, then looked up at me.

"I've got to go" He said quickly. "What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter." I answered, and he looked at me for a few seconds.

"Sure it does." He noted. "But I haven't got time to argue right now. See you later!" He yelled, and ran off like a drunken giraffe.

I'm really, really, really hoping that was just a really, really drunken cosplayer, because otherwise we were in deep shit. And so was the Doctor.


	12. Don't go van Gogh on me

**A.N: okay minor trigger warning here. I'm sorry, I guess it's kind of a spoiler but I kinda feel obligated to tell you anyway. SO, if you have no problem with violence, go on and start reading.**

**But if you do have a problem with violence (file under self-destructive behaviour), don't read the chapter. Don't worry, there's no major plot twists or things like that. Give me a message and I'll tell you everything you need to know, and if you want, I can re-write a version of this chapter, trigger-free. Okay?**

I walked in to my apartment and threw my bag to a corner.

_Okay. So, today was interesting. I found a sonic screwdriver that might actually be **the **sonic screwdriver, and I found a Doctor that might actually be **the **Doctor. _

Both of these ideas annoyed me. Mostly because I'm used to logically sorting out things, and neither of these thoughts made any kind of rational sense. Also partly 'cause I didn't want to let myself believe that the Doctor was real.

I sighed and put the kettle on, only to find an envelope neatly placed on top of my trademark teacup.

_Okay._

_Jenny, the housekeeper whose name I can't remember, Jack, Scar and DJ. _

_The first three I've given a key to, and I know for a fact that the last two can pick locks._

_Who would've left me an envelope? _

_Doesn't sound like DJ, altough he's been acting weird._

_Jenny? Probably not. She says everything out loud. Plus I doubt she even owns white envelopes. All of her stuff is pink, and I wouldn't be surprised if her envelopes were, too._

_Jack? _

…_.could be, but why?_

I picked it up and cut it open with a knife.

_Scar?_

_No. She doesn't do letters. She does post-it notes glued around with strawberry bubblegum. She doesn't leave letters._

My stomach dropped.

_Unless._

_No._

My breath caught up to my throat as I opened the neatly folded paper that started with the words_ 'I'm sorry' _and ended with a_ 'Goodbye.' _

A key dropped from between the paper, and the teacup dropped from my hands as I spinned around, grapped my keys and slammed the door shut behind me.

The neighbors would complain, but I didn't care.

I ran down the steps and hopped on to my bike.

I had left my helmet inside, but I'd never fallen over, the streets were empty and her house wasn't far away.

_I've got to be there before-_

I didn't hear myself finish that thought, 'cause the engine roared under me.

I didn't give a fuck about the speed limits, and the adrenaline made my heart race.

Let me tell you a thing about her family.

They're sick. They're horrible. They abuse her, physically and verbally and probably in ways she hasn't even told me about. Her parents treat her like a piece of shit. Hell, they've _told _her to kill herself. She's _fifteen _and her own _mother_ has told her to kill herself.

But the thing is, if I was to tell anyone, a police, a social worker-

No-one would believe me.

Her parents are incredible actors. They put on a show, and I would have no idea what's happening behind the curtains unless she'd told me.

They're rich, they're pretty. They've got a dog and a garden and a townhouse. No-one would believe me. And if I told anybody, her parents would find out she's told somebody. That would mean she'd get her ass kicked. Because let's face it, with the system like this, I doubt she'd actually get out of there.

Maybe this was the only way out she saw.

_What if I'm too late? God, I shouldn't have stayed out and spoken with the stupid drunken guy, I shouldn't have played a detective, I shouldn't have-_

I took a shaky breath as I hit the brakes, turned to her yard -killing her mom's flowers, good-, and jumped off, letting the bike fall over.

_What if I'm too late?_

A part of my brain registered that there was no car on the yard. Her parents were gone. Again.

I took a quick look at the door and decited that it was probably very old and very expensive and her parents were probably very proud of it.

I took a breath kicked it open, breaking the lock. Well, technically I kicked the old wood next to the lock so that the actual lock stayed in one piece and the wood around it shattered, but the point is that I got in.

My heart was skipping beats as I was skipping steps, runnning up to her room.

That's deffinetly where she'd be, she'd want her parents to find her after they've already been home for a while, and realize that maybe they could've done something.

I took a long, shaky breath as I heard quiet sobbing.

_She was still alive. _

_Well, at least relatively._

I slowly pushed open the door, and she was facing a window. Her shoulders were shaking, and a part of me registered a small, black gun loosely in her right hand.

_She must know I'm here. She probably saw me come._

"Don't do it." I said quietly. I wanted to say something important, but I couldn't think of anything. "Please, Scar." My voice was weak. Shaky.

"Why?" She yelled with a broken voice. "What's the _point?_"

"Scar-"

"No, don't! You know I'm right, and you know humans are horrible and this _world _is horrible and there's no-one out there who'd miss me, and you _know _it'll never get better, it'll never get easier!" She screamed, eyes full of pain and tears.

"How can you tell me not to do it, when, if it weren't for Jack you would've-" She swallowed the rest of the sentence with a sob.

I looked at her.

"This has nothing ot do with him."

"This has _everything _to do with him, J!" She emphasized her words by throwing her hands around.

I let out a pained breath. "It won't last forever, Scar. I promise. If the final straw was your family, I promise I'll deal with that. If it was the fact that you're tired, sad, angry, lonely- I promise I'll help you trough it. But please, _please, _don't do it. I know it not may seem like it, but people care, Scar. They just don't tend to show it." I said quietly, stepping closer and hoping I didn't sound like a psychiatrist.

She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

"I know you're tired of being strong, tired of having no-one to blame, tired if being tired, tired of being treated like you don't matter, Scar. I _know. _But believe me, It's not worth it, it's not." I stepped a bit closer. "Because billions of neutron stars died to form the atoms that formed you, Scar. You're literally stardust, a piece of outer space. And yes, some day that stardust will go on in a universe that's constantly growing and changing and creating, but today's not that day, Scar. You're a miracle in a cold, rocky galaxy. Think about everything you have left to see, to feel, to learn. Think about all the songs you haven't listen, all the movies you haven't seen. Think about all the people out there who are dying to meet someone like you. "

"That's the _thing, J. _There is no-one." she spat out as she leaned against a wall and slided down to the floor.

"There always is someone. This is just one town, Scar. You say the word and I'll take you to see the world and meet thousands and thousands of new people. If you want a boyfriend, if that's what this is about, I will find you one. Hell, I'd date you myself if I was into girls." This got a small smile out of her.

"Because you are incredible, Scar. I know you don't believe it, but you are. I'm sorry that your parents are fucked up, and I know it's not fair and I know that they shoud be loving and supportive, but they're just people, and you're under no obligation to put up with their shit. I promise you, if you just say so I will deal with them, and you won't have to see them ever again if you don't want to." I sat next to her.

"Please." I whispered.

She breathed slowly, looking at the gun.

"Tell me one thing." She whispered. "Tell me the truth, and I'll put down the gun."

"Deal."

She took a breath. "If you'd never met him, would've you done it? "

I wanted to say no, I really did.

But I wasn't so sure.

"Being lonely was never the main reason I was depressed, Scar. I was depressed 'cause human beings are horrible and I can't change that, and 'cause I'm going to be stuck on this planet for the rest of my life, and there's nothing Jack can do about that." I said quietly. "So no, I wouldn't have. But you need to understand that I never stopped being hurt, Scar. I stopped caring."

She nodded slowly, but her fingers were still loosely curled around the gun.

"How?" She asked quietly. "How do you stop caring? How do you stop being in pain, when you know it's not gonna get better?" Her voice cracked.

I slowly placed my hand on top of hers. The one that was holding the gun.

"You have to accept the reality we live in. You have to realize that there are certain things that you can't change, and certain things that simply don't matter." I explained.

She took a shaky breath as I slowly tried to take the gun from her.

"And you have to realize that _you _matter. And that people are just people."

The phone in the pocket of my jacket started vibrating loudly, and in the quiet room it sounded like the Niagara Falls.

She flinched at the sound, and her finger on the trigger flinched, too.

-**A.N AGAIN**

**Okay, I know this chapter had really little Doctor in it, and I'm sorry. But I just spent six hours talking one of my best friends out of killing herself, and I needed to get it out of my system. **

**Plus I think it's important that a person's doctorless life doesn't stop when they meet the doctor, right?**


	13. something to die for

The next few minutes happened in slow motion.

Have you ever been in an accident? A car crash?

You know how time bends when something bad happens? How you're sometimes in so deep shock you don't feel any pain? How time slows down and a second feels like a minute and a minute feels like a year?

I haven't got a clear memory of what happened, but I'm pretty sure it went something like this.

The gun went off. The bang rang in my ears, companied by my own heartbeat, and soon by Scar's panicked scream.

The gun dropped from her hand.

I blinked.

I heard myself thinking that if the gun went off, the bullet must be somewhere. But I didn't hear anything breaking, just a dull clank of some sort, and Scar isn't screaming like she's hurt, she's screaming like she's, well, panicking.

_Oh._

I stopped wondering where the bullet ended up when I felt the mind-numbing pain pulsing in my left forearm. I guess the few seconds of shock had saved me from the worst pain, but now that I felt it, I instinctively doubled over. She was hyperventilating next to me, and I let out a pained gasp.

I pulled up the blood-stained sleeve of my jacket, trying to stabilize my breathing.

___Odds are that blood loss is my worst problem. Panicking will just speed up my hearbeat and shorten my time of sensible thinking._

She tried to say something, but her words were muffled up.

I tried to wipe off some of the blood pulsing from the wound, trying to categorize it.

___It could be worse, the wound._

The wound was on the side of my forearm, but it had still hit some big veins, judging by the amount of blood.

_I need preassure on the wound. Now._

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, what do I do, what do i ___do_?" she sobbed, and I tried to take a steady breath and stand up.

___Okay._

___Movement. Bad._

I leaned to the wall with my good hand.

"I need compression on the wound, now." I took a breath. "Also, morphine would be nice."

I looked around to find something I could wrap around my arm. She did the same thing, and soon pulled out a t-shirt. I pulled my sleeve up higher.

I started wrapping the t-shirt around the wound, while she went trough her drawers, probably looking for something I could use as a weight.

I remember thinking that I'm glad I've given her a few good-to-know lessons about first aid.

A part of me noted that I should probably be in more pain than I was.

But we were alive. That was the most important part.

After a few seconds she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, weighing it in her hand. She soon emptied its contents to the floor, and I concentrated on wrapping the shirt around my arm.

A small part of my brain registered that she had started smoking.

A larger part of my brain registered that one packet wasn't enough.

"I'm gonna need two of those." I noted, trying to ignore the blood staining the shirt. "The bullet came out, too."

___Wait. If the bullet came out, it wasn't inside me. And if it wasn't inside me, no-one would have to poke my insides to get it out. On the other hand, if it came out, the damage was probably worse than I realized._

I took a shaky breath. She soon handed me two packs, and I placed one of them on each side of my arm.

"Can you ride my bike? Without falling over, that is?" I asked, wrapping the fabric tightly as the blood slowly but steadily dripped trough, and the pain pulsed trough my system.

She looked hesitating, but in a few seconds gave me a small nod.

"Good. Where did you get the gun?"

She furrowed her eyebrows a bit, probably wondering why was that a relevant question.

I tightened the fabric.

"We're gonna need a reason behind the fact that I have a hole going trough my arm. If it's stolen you're gonna get caught, unless you can come up with a really convincing lie."

She opened her mouth to answer, but soon closed it and shook her head a bit.

"Let's go before you faint from blood loss." She said with a strangled voice, and I followed her down the stairs, trying to walk a straight line and failing miserably.

Thank god the hospital wasn't far away. Also, I'm pretty grateful that I used one summer on giving her driving lessons.

The wind screamed in my ears, and the cold night air seemed to calm down the pulsing pain in the wound. I guess I was kind of running on all kinds of defense mechanisms, instincs and shock hormones, 'cause the next thing I realized were the disturbing beeping of the hospital machines and the sterile, overpowering hospital scent.

I registered a tired-looking nurse looming over me, and slowly the rest of the room started to form a shape, too.

"Hello." He said with an overly nice voice, and I squinted my eyes a bit due to the very, very bright lights.

_I haven't been here for long. I can't have. It's still night._

"Uh-What...?" I tried, and the words tasted weird on my tongue.

___Wait. What? Why am I here?_

My brain started to list facts.

___Scar. The wound. Right._

I looked at the guy, and he was smiling a tired smile.

"Don't worry." He said, and that was deffinetly something I would worry about, because that meant there was something I could be worrying about.

"You lost quite a lot of blood, but luckily your little sister knew what she was doing."

___Little sister?_

"I mean with the first aid, not with the shooting." He added quickly, sounding a bit...what, quilty?

___Oh, Scar? If she told them she was my sister, what else did she lie about?_

"We had to stitch the wounds, but it'll heal nice and clean." He frowned a bit, and I noticed how young he was. Probably a trainee?

"However, the bullet did do quite a lot of damage, but we did everything we could, and your tissue repares itself quickly." He explained, and I sat up on the hospital bed.

The part of my brain that makes pointless remarks noted that I was still in my own clothes, so I really hadn't been in here for long, and I couldn't be in _that _bad shape, but they had probably pumped some pretty heavy painkillers into my veins, taken I had blacked out.

"But your state is stable, and we'll let you go home quite soon." He smiled a bit to himself. "Just don't give the keys to a fifteen-year-old again, eh?"

I smirked a bit. "Well, I was making do. I knew she could drive, and to my own defense things like driving license age limits tend to slip your mind when you're being shot."

He made a small, tired laughing-kind of noise.

"Talking of which, where is she?" I asked.

"Down the hall, talking with your boyfriend. She's hardly left the room, but we figured it would be best if she didn't see the wound."

___Okay, maybe I'm on more painkillers that I realize, because I'm kind of pretty sure I don't have a boyfriend. But then again, if Scar said she's my sister, she could've lied about a boyfriend, too._

In the middle of that thought someone knocked on the door, and the nurse looked at me. "Is it okay if I let them in?" He asked, and I nodded a bit.

"Sure." If nothing else, I wanted to go home as soon as possible. Also, I kind of wanted to meet my 'boyfriend'.

The door opened and Scar rushed in with tear-swollen eyes and a worried look on her face.

And I guess a part of me expected Jack to walk in behind her, because I was slightly surprised as I saw DJ lean to the door frame with his hands loosely in his pockets.

Okay. Like I said, I would categorize Jack as my best friend, and if someone were to offer to pretend to be my boyfriend, he'd be the first in line. I mean yes, we're just friends, (though no-one seems to be believing that). See, when I first met him, I was in pretty bad shape, depressed. And he was the only person I actually told how hurt I was. And he was the only person to actually be any help with that.

I didn't tell about it to a lot of people, but five years ago my whole family died. One by one. I was in a car crash that took my parents and left me and my little brother barely alive -and he, just ten years old, later died in my arms to the hospital bed. They kept me in the hospital, made me ho to all kinds of psychiatrists and group therapies, probably 'cause I once happened to have a minor mental breakdown and I screamed to a poor, innocent psychiatrist that human beings were aweful and we were all trapped to this stupid, doomed solar system.

Neither of these therapies hepled me on any way, however, and they couldn't keep me there forever. I was legally an adult, so I just wondered around for a few years, you know, living on the road, until I settled down in here.

Untill I got into college and met Jack.

And he was the one that reminded me that not everyone is that horrible. He was the one that showed me that while we may be trapped on this mostly harmless rock going round and round, there's still a lot of beautiful things.

He was the one that showed me that maybe it's not about finding something to live for, it's about finding something you're ready to die for.

He is, without a doubt, the best human being I have ever met, and he is a human being I would happily let loose from this planet. And that is the highest compliment I will ever be capable of giving.

And yes, I might aswell admit he's hot as hell. The eyes, one icy blue and one so dark brown it was practically black? The freckles? The hair that is perfectly messy and perfectly curly? And don't even get me _started _on his body.

And the thing is, every time someone -usually Jenny- went on and on about how we would be _so perfect together, _A part of me agreed.

And a part of him agreed, too, because it was more than once that he had said that we could be _more. _

And every time I had the same answer; that I was not girlfriend material, and that he deserved someone better.

And every time, he said that he didn't _care _about that.

Somehow these conversations never got finished, and somehow these conversations never changed a thing between us. We continued drinking tea together, watching stupid movies and science documents together, eating lunch together. We continued doing stupid science experiments together, building useless machines together and staring at the stars together, we continued going to boring parties together.

It was like we somehow were more than friends, but then again we weren't.

Because, quite possibly, Jack Mayhem was one of the things I would die for.

"Hi, sleepyhead." I heard DJ say in a very non-characteristic voice, and that snapped me back to reality.

The nurse smiled towards them, and I'm kind of sure he wasn't smiling at Dean.

"What if we just go home and get some sleep?" Scar said, with a voice that sounded like she was hiding something. Or then I was just high from all the morphine inside me.

"Yeah, sounds great." I noted, and DJ gave me a small smile from the doorway.

In about an hour we were all sitting in his car, me with a ton of painkillers in my pocket and Scar with the nurse's phone number in hers.

"I'll drive you home and then come back and drive your bike back to your place, okay?" Dean noted, as if there was nothing weird in the situation.

"Uh-huh, and before you do that you could explain why I have a sister and a boyfriend I didn't know about."

Scar smirked a bit.

"See, I figured that if I was finally going to give back at my parents, I might as well start with your hospital bill." She explained. "And they wouldn't have told us anything if we weren't related. And they wouldn't have let you leave with him if you two weren't in a relationship." She shrugged. "He happened to call you when they threw me out to the hallway, and I knew he had a car, so..."

I couldn't help but smile a bit. The kid was smart.

"How much did you tell them?" I asked.

"Everything. I mean, changing your personality and relationship status. But other than that I told the truth."

"And?"

"And, who knows? I told them that I'll be living with you, and they told me that when my parents get home they'll have the law and order waiting them."

I gave her a tired smile as DJ stopper the car to my house.

"You really don't have to go pick up the bike, you know." I noted as he parked the car to my unused parking space in front of the house.

"Nah, it's all right. And I really want to test it too, you know. To know is your bike better than mine or am I just a lousy driver." He smirked a bit as we got off of the car.

The hospital wasn't far away, nothing in this town is, and he started walking back. But before he turned to leave, he suddenly pulled me into a hug.

Dean Johnson does not do hugs.

"Don't go to sleep yet. I need to talk to you." He whispered, turned around, tucked his hands to his pockets and started walking back.

___What, he had something to tell me? Something so important it couldn't wait till tomorrow? Something so secret Scar couldn't know about it?_

I sighed a bit. I was too tired to think about secrets and mysteries. He could tell me whatever he wanted, but I wasn't going to worry about it yet.

As we walked in and I instinctively put the kettle on and cursed at my broken cup, meanwhile Scar constantly went on and on about how sorry she was.

"J?" She asked, and I hummed as an answer. "I really am. Sorry."

I smiled a bit. "Hey, it's okay, kiddo. We're alive, and that's the important part. Plus I'm on so many painkillers you have no idea, and the battle scar is kind of cool." I smiled a bit. "And look at the bright side. You'll get rid of your parents, and you may even get a date out of all this." I smirked at her tiredly. "I saw how you were looking at the nurse." I explained as she looked a bit confused. "Talking of which, how on earth did you get DJ to play house with you? I mean-"

She chuckled a bit. "I thought you'd want to get home as soon as possible. And for that, you'd need a car and a driver. Well, at first I figured it's gotta be someone who'd pass as a lover or a relative, right? I was gonna call Jack, but then I thought maybe not. He would've had a mental breakdown at the thought of you having a hole trough your arm. And Jenny? She doesn't even have a car, does she? Well, that douchebag she calls her boyfriend has, but I thought he was probably not an option. Plus I know she's emotionally unstable. So, when DJ happened to call you..." Her voice faded out.

"You're smart, did you know that?" I smiled at her and poured tea to an old cup.

In a few minutes I heard the familiar engine roar on the yard.

"I'll go see DJ, he said he had something to tell me. Why don't you go to sleep? I won't be long."

She muttered an agreement and soon collapsed to the couch, and I closed the door quietly behind me.

"I'm sorry, J." He started, and I raised a brow a bit. "I know you're tired. But I had to tell you. I...I think I know what connected the missing kids, J."

My eyes widened a bit, and he started to go trough his pockets.

"I found these from the girl's room." he pulled out a pile of separate razor blades, and my stomach dropped a little bit. "I didn't say anything earlier, I didn't want to upset Jenny-" He continued.

"But think about it. What if they weren't just ready to disappear." He took a breath. "What if they were preparing it?" he looked at me.

I blinked and nodded slowly.

"But that doesn't mean this whole thing isn't weird as fuck." I answered. "I mean, I know you think it's stupid, but the screwdriver they found, it...it seems legit E.T, DJ. And John Smith?" I let out a short, tired, sarcastic laugh. "A strange man with no memory of his past but a wide knowledge of the universe, science and technology just ___happens_to come around when a bunch of kids suddenly go missing? While he has no memory of how he lost his memory, but he notices things like disappearing ___police boxes__?_ And his name just ___happens_to be John Smith?" I gave him a short, sarcastic chuckle. "And earlier today, you know I actually met a man who insisted on being the Doctor. Wait, no, he insisted on being___John Smith__, _and when I pointed out that the psychic paper he showed me was, in fact, blank, he___then_insisted on being the Doctor."

He blinked a few times, then sighed quietly. "I don't know what's behind all this, but I'll help you find out if you want me to." He said, and I gave him a tired smile. "But for now I think you need approximately sixteen hours of sleep to work properly."

I smiled a bit as he throwed the keys back to me. "You sure you don't want me to stay over? " He asked, and to be honest I was surprised it didn't sound like a sex offer. Because Dean Johnson was practically nothing but sex offers. But then again, I had a gallon of morphine in my veins, and for all I know he could've just told me he's from Mars and I would've just been 'K'.

"Nah, I think we're good." I smiled a bit, and he shrugged a bit.

Opening the door of his car, he suddenly froze. "What if he is?" He asked quietly, and I raised a brow.

"The Doctor. What if they're both him, just_ a different time stream?_" he continued, and I blinked.

_He's right._

"I mean, that could explain the accident he can't remember, wouldn't it? Regeneration? What if-" He turned to look at me. "-What if the accident that he can't remember is him trying to destroy whatever is taking the depressed kids? And what if something goes wrong?" He explained, now sounding more convinced about his theory.

My eyes enlargened. "_DJ. _They're targeting the kids who are already _ready_ to disappear, right?" I said, taking a sharp breath. "We've got one upstairs." I whispered, and just then Scar's blood-chilling scream ripped trough the night.

**A.N ; Okay first of all I'm sorry it's long and messy and it probably has a lot of typos, but I wanted to finally write a chapter that sort of binds together the whole thing. So, what do you think?**

**I hope this chapter made this whole story somewhat sensible, and if it didn't, I'm sorry, but life hardly ever makes sense, now does it? **


	14. bad luck

We looked at each other with widened eyes for a heartbeat.

Before running upstairs, that is.

I ran the steps three at once, the increaced heartbeat making the wound throb again, and DJ followed close behind me.

We heard Scar's disorted, high-pitched scream turn into creative insults like 'butt-faced miscreant', 'brain-dead misogynistic piece of shit' and 'mentally disorted lower-class ectoplasm', and I heard my heartbeat pound through my head.

I mentally cursed the day I decited to live in the fourth floor as my vison started blurring. I still had a shitload of painkillers in my system, I was tired as hell, and also I'm pretty sure it's not recommended to run like a maniac a couple of hours after you've been shot.

Another scream ripped trough the hallways, and I had to lean to a wall not to fall over.

DJ offered me a hand and pulled me after him for the last few steps, and soon my mind registered the other screamer to be the girl who lived upstairs.

_Of course. She never sleeps when it's dark outside._

It took me a few seconds to get the picture, and DJ, probably unconciously, was still holding onto me so I wouldn't fall over.

The girl upstairs -I never grasped her name, but I could've listed her favourite songs and tv shows, sleeping schedule and the way she drinks her tea- she was standing on my door, holding a frying pan.

My door, that had a broken lock. And it hadn't been kicked in, no.

The lock had been twisted out of shape. The metal had been preassured unrecognizable with raw power.

She stopped the incoherent screaming, and turned to me with wide eyes.

"The fuck is that thing?" She screamed, her voice breaking down.

She stared inside my flat, and I automatically tried to see whatever she was looking at.

Scar was standing back against a wall, holding a swiss army knife.

On her face she had a look so scared, so tired, so broken I hardly recognized her.

Yet under all that she had the familiar determined look in her eyes and the trusty army knife in her hands.

"Yeah? Come on then, you squid-faced soulless piece of crap" she said quietly.

I pushed aside the black-haired girl and entered the room.

My heart skipped a beat.

Trough a large mirror that covered one of my walls I finally saw what had broken in to my flat and was now threatening my 'little sister'.

"You've got to be kidding me" I muttered quietly.

DJ stumbled to the room, too, with a quiet, disorted 'oh my _god.'_

And suddenly I was quite glad I happened to keep a pair of mirroring sunglasses over that mirror.

I quickly took them with my non-injured hand and walked closer to the tall, grey angel statue in the middle of the room.

"You alright?" I muttered, now standing in front of Scar, staring at the angel that was reaching over to her.

"A brilliant plan, to be honest." I talked to the angel, knowing that it could hear us. "Taking the ones who do the job for you. Save yourselves from a lot of trouble, really."

"The fuck is it?" The girl from upstairs yelled. "it _moved!" _

"It's a quantum-locked psycopath that feeds off of time energy." I answered, flipping the sunglasses around in my hand.

"A brilliant self-defense mechanism. When you look at it, it literally turns to stone. " DJ explained, slowly walking around the statue.

"They're zapping self-destructive kids back in time to feed off of their futures in the current time."

"There's just one problem." I noted, putting on the mirroring pilot glasses.

"Because you've left quite a lot of traces and we're getting kind of tired of your extraterrestial bullshit." I talked quietly, not even trying to veil the annoyance from my voice. "Kid's off the menu, bitch." I spat out.

" And right now, you've managed to wake up an entire building of people. And not just that, you've managed to get about a thousand young masterminds after yourselves. You're not really good at this staying undercover-thing, are you?" I let out a dry chuckle and flipped my phone around in my hand. "Also, you know what this little thing happens to be doing?" I smirked a bit, holding the phone in front of the statue."It's transferring live feed video to a small piece of nowhere called the Times Square. You know, just about a billion people staring at you at the same time. And well, I never actually went to my probability math classes, but I'm pretty sure odds are they never quite blink at the same time." I smirked a bit. "And I suggest you get lost quite quickly and go tell all of your buddies to think twice before you mess with my planet. Because humans may be stupid, but they'll sure as hell put up a fight." I talked quietly, and a few seconds later the angel was gone.

"Quantum locked morons." I muttered as I turned to Scar, who was visibly shaking. She slowly walked to the couch, still clutching onto the knife, and I raised the glasses to my forehead.

DJ furrowed his eyebrowas a bit, and I raised mine slightly, waiting for him to say what was on his mind.

"There's more." He muttered, rubbing his forehead a bit. "There's got to be."

I nodded a bit. "'Cause there's still something messing with reality." I said quietly.

The girl from the flat above mine (Mary something apparently) seemed to be disturbingly calm about the fact that she had just seen an alien, and she soon went back to her batcave.

My mind, on the other hand, wasn't registering the situation veru clearly. Could be the painkillers or the lack of sleep, or it could be the fact that a bloody weeping angel had just broken in to my apartment.

I'm quite sure I had automatically made tea as soon as the angel fled (my reaction to anything, really), and at some point DJ offered to let Scar and me crash in his apartment. He lived in this goddamn mansion with his parents, who were never home, and I distantly remember agreeing. Possibly 'cause I now had no lock in my home, I had just tricked a psychopath that now knew where I live, and Scar probably wasn't exactly comfortable sleeping there either. Also I was really tired.

As a matter of fact I was, quite possibly, more tired than I realized, 'cause the next thing I knew was the fact that I was curled up in a ball underneath a pile of blankets.

I opened my eyes, then decited that it was a bad move and pressed them close again.

It took me a coulpe of minutes to get adjusted to the light, and then another few to realize where I was.

Because the pile of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals happened to be in a small corner of DJ's room, partly behind his bed. I slowly and reluctantly sat up, rubbing my head, registering the throbbing pain in my left forearm and looking around the room.

I put a hand trough my hair and yawned, trying to remember the night before and failing miserably.

I slowly stood up and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, walking out of the room.

I soon found Scar and DJ from a couch, lazily watching something and eating pizza, and a part of me noted that I must've slept kind of long.

"how long was I out?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

They chuckled a bit.

"Eighteen hours."

"Must be your new record, really."

I collapsed to the couch, too, not bothering to tell them that my personal record of sleeping in one day was actually 22 hours.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" I asked after a couple of minutes.

"So should you, but we kinda figured that getting shot and dealing with an extraterrestial psycopath kind of earns you a day off, don't you think?" DJ muttered, and I smiled a bit. That was not a sentence I thought I'd hear.

In a few minutes he broke the silence and threw me my phone. "Here. Jenny's been calling."

"Did you answer?"

"I did." Scar answered, eyed glued to the screen. "Told her you were sleeping and that you'd go to the cafe tonight."

I nodded a bit, going trough my messages.

"It wasn't true, was it?" DJ asked in a few minutes, and I looked up from my phone.

"The Times Square-thing." He explained, and I smiled a bit.

"Nah. All of the screens go trough different servers, it'd take ages to hack all of them." I muttered.

We hanged around for a few brain-dead hours, and soon he drove us to the cafe. I walked to the opposite direction, towards my home, planning on calling a locksmith, and Scar went to the cafe, planning on calling the nurse she'd met the day before.

I yawned again as I walked around the corner, lazily waving to DJ.

I stopped on my tracks as I saw Jack sitting on the doorstep like a stray puppy.


End file.
